


Star Wars: Immortal Past

by Nerdlinger1



Series: Resolutions [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rey Nobody, Rey Solo, Written before TROS...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 80,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdlinger1/pseuds/Nerdlinger1
Summary: “You can never really kill the past, can you…”“No, you sure can’t. It has a way of leaving its mark on you, no doubt.”/Now. You have to do something NOW.So she shook him.And there were the birds. And the grass. She looked up, and she thought she saw the sky. The noise, gone. It was like how it sounds when you’re listening to a recording of a cymbal being smashed, but played in reverse. An airlock opening, releasing everything inside all at once.“What did you see?”“Not much, this time.”“Did you hear anything?”“Yes, I heard…” and he paused, a vacant look in his eyes as he recalled the words.“You heard what?” She was on tenterhooks. Did he hear the noise? Had any clues emerged whatsoever that would help them make sense of what was happening to them? She held her breath, waiting impatiently for him to recount whatever he’d heard whispered to him in the blackness…“‘Who is that?’”/This picks up about 5 years after my previous work, "Star Wars: The Resolve Into Gray", a Post-TLJ slowburn Reylo told over 100,000 words. Plotty, canon compliant--some liberties taken. If you want to read IP, I highly recommend reading that first. :)





	1. Grounded

****———** Chapter 1: Grounded **———****

“Ha! I almost got you that time!”

Finnie held her pike proudly in front of her, sweating and beaming with pride. “If you’re not more careful, I might just knock you out next time!”

Finn laughed, “Yeah, I guess my days of going easy on you might just be coming to a close! No surprise, really, you’re as tall as I am, and you’re only five.”

Finnie smiled. She had known for a couple years already that she would grow to be very tall. She didn’t really know just how “big for her age” she was though, because her exact age was a bit of a mystery. She had been “born” almost six years ago, but, as a clone, there was no way of knowing precisely what her developmental equivalent would have been. She just knew she was big.

“Why don’t we take a break, love? Your old man needs a rest,” joked Finn, placing his own pike back into the rack at the edge of the sparring area.

Finnie nodded, and jogged over to add her pike to the collection of other weapons. At the school, there were many different weapons to choose from, and Finnie was skilled at almost all of them. Her whole life, her dad had trained Republic fighters in hand-to-hand combat, and she was no exception. For the last several months, though, she had had him and his expertise pretty much all to herself.

Since founding the training school five years ago, Ben, Rey, and Simeon had vastly augmented the facilities there. Simeon occupied Rey’s original cottage, and Rey had moved in with Ben and expanded that cottage into something more closely resembling a home. Besides the original structure, which still stood and now served primarily as a kitchen and dining area, it had two bedrooms and a study fitted with communications equipment and a computer terminal networked into the rest of the Republic.

Simeon’s cottage was largely unchanged from how Rey had left it—a basically empty, utilitarian shed—and the rest of the school had grown up around it. There were different covered areas dedicated to various school functions, constructed on an as-needed basis, radiating out from there in a quasi-random arrangement. Further out in the forest the older students slept in some of the small cabins that were part of the original colonial settlements. 

No one could have anticipated the school would grow to be as large and sophisticated as it had become, so the layout of its facilities were, in retrospect, somewhat haphazard. The school had its own computer-based library and comms station, an outdoor kitchen and dining area, and multiple weapons caches lining the perimeter of a sparring courtyard. There was even a large garden where some small farming took place. 

A couple small tents were thrown up as well, where some of the younger children had chosen to make their quarters, nearer to the reassuring presence of their adult protector. This was largely a holdover, a habit from the early days of the school, as by now, all the children felt secure enough in their circumstances that living in the more remote cottages would have felt totally comfortable for them. It was only at first, in the wake of the violent events that had begun their orphanage, that they needed this added security.

These days, Finn spent most of his time at the school, away from the rest of the military. He and Finnie still shared a residence at the base, but their trips to the school had become so frequent that it was practically routine now. However, even at the school, Finnie still spent most of her time with her dad. 

“Hey, are you two done? Want to join us for lunch?” called a small voice from the other end of the concourse. She was one of the students who kept a tent closer to the main area.

It was Malfi. One of the youngest of the children rescued from Lothal to attend the school, Malfi was now about eleven years old. Unlike the other kids, who were kind, but very close-knit and somewhat exclusive, Malfi was always reaching out to invite others to join her. It was thanks to Malfi that Finnie ever felt like part of the group.

Finnie shouted back, “Yeah, hold on!” then turned back to Finn. “We can, right dad? I’m starving.”

“Sure. I just wish we had something to contribute to the meal…” Finn felt a stab of embarrassment whenever he had to rely on kids to feed him. He had always counted on whatever organization he was with to provide food for him. He had never hunted, and didn’t know how to cook. 

Finnie shrugged, and jogged over to Malfi. “Thanks, Malfi. What’s on the menu today?”

“Umm, not sure. The others headed out to look for bush lizards, but I hate those—they’re such a pain to get the bones out of. I was hoping we could find some birds or something.”

Finnie grumbled a little, but subtly enough that Malfi didn’t notice, or pretended not to. The students here were encouraged to use their Force abilities to find fresh food whenever possible, but it was common knowledge that Finnie preferred preserves and rations. They wanted to keep their food stores undepleted in preparation for the leaner months or in case of emergency, but Finnie couldn’t help wishing they could just be a little less practical and a little more convenient. She was hardly upset though—Finnie was always happy to eat.

“Why don’t you two head into the forest and see what you can find? I’ll wait for you outside Simeon’s cottage,” said Finn.

“Okay dad, see you in a bit,” replied Finnie.

“See you, Mister Finn,” said Malfi, with a wave.

Finn walked the short distance over to Simeon’s cottage. Rey and Ben were sitting at a table outside the structure, having their own lunches. At Finn’s approach, Ben called out in greeting, “Good afternoon, Finn. Taking a break from getting your ass kicked?”

Finn chuckled. “‘Ass kicked’, you say? Were you watching, or just making an educated guess? Hey, Rey,” he added, bending down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hi Finn,” she replied, smiling up at him.

“Not so much an educated guess as a foregone conclusion,” said Ben. “That kid is every bit as built as her predecessor. With you as her private teacher, it’s only a matter of time before she surpasses you in raw ability.”

Finn nodded. “They certainly grew them tough on Parnassos, didn’t they?”

“A real survival-of-the-fittest type place, yes,” added Ben in agreement. “Hungry? I have some cheese and picoberries I haven’t finished yet.”

Rey looked apologetically up at Finn, “Sorry, I ate all mine…” Predictable—leaving leftovers behind was not part of Rey’s MO.

“No, thanks, you can keep your berries. _I’m_ getting fed by children,” he said, smiling crookedly.

“You know, hunting and foraging existed long before people learned how to channel the Force,” teased Ben. Rey laughed, taking a sip from her canteen.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t need to give me crap about it, jeez. You can’t teach an old anooba new tricks,” said Finn, defeatedly flopping into an empty chair at the table.

Ben and Rey exchanged glances. “Sorry, you know we’re just messing with you,” said Rey. Ordinarily, this level of joking around was typical banter for the three of them. They should have known, however, that this week would bring new sensitivities with it.

“How are the two of you coping?” asked Rey.

Finn sighed deeply, thinking of how to answer. “You know, I don’t know. I think Finnie’s doing better than I am, but I can’t really tell. I don’t know what ‘normal’ looks like right now. I just know that as long as we both have weapons in our hands, we can sort of forget about everything else.”

Rey pursed her lips sympathetically. Ben admired Finn for how he was handling things. Though the love of his life was sitting mere inches from him, he’d come close enough to losing her before that he thought he could understand what Finn was going through. Finn’s strength impressed him.

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Rey.

“No, no, we’ll be fine.” Another big sigh. “We’ll get through this. You guys have enough going on around here without fretting after us, trust me.”

“Fretting is what family is supposed to do, isn’t it?” asked Rey. “I’m honored to have you to fret over,” she added, placing her hand warmly over the top of his own.

Finn gave her a small smile. “You’re not stretched sort of thin in that department? Your family has gotten pretty big since the war ended. Speaking of which, where’s Ren?”

“He went into the forest with the others to look for lizards. He doesn’t like to eat them, but he likes to play with them,” said Ben.

Finn smiled, reminiscing. “Finnie used to do that sort of thing back when she—well, I guess technically, she’s that age _now_ , but when she was… new.”

Ben and Rey watched their friend’s face as the thoughts of the early days of his own small family washed over him. 

“When does Simeon get back?” Finn asked, wiping his eyes as he changed the subject.

“Should be any day now. Once Temiri finds a suitable crystal, they’ll leave, but they need to stop at Naboo on the way back in order to get some other materials,” explained Ben.

“Good for them,” said Finn. “The Padawan will soon become the Master,” he mused.

“No masters here,” corrected Ben with a subtle smile, shaking his head evenly.

“Right, right… what were they called again? The guys with no masters?” asked Finn.

“Ronin,” answered Ben. “Masterless swordfighters from a bygone era—that is, if they ever really existed.”

“Stories his mother used to tell,” Rey clarified. “Skilled, honor-bound warriors who fought to protect powerful houses. The honorability of those houses was more or less debatable, but regardless, once the houses fell, the warriors became known as ‘ronin’. Free to follow their own paths.”

“Uh huh, neat…” remarked Finn, nodding absently. “Follow their own path…”

Rey looked worriedly at him. “Anyway, we’re just teachers, not masters. Here as guides, that’s all.”

Finn nodded. Right about now, a little guidance sounded like a wonderful thing.

**———**

“Bartender, more whisky over here!”

“You know, you don’t have to shout—there’s hardly anyone else in here. And don’t you think you’ve had enough? Pretty soon we’re going to have to start charging you…” said the Sullustan bartender, polishing a brandy snifter to a high shine.

Poe rolled his eyes, making circles in the air with his empty glass. “Free drinks is pretty much the only perk we get around here. Keep ‘em coming…”

The bartender shook his head, sighing, but he set down the snifter and moved back toward the wall of half-filled bottles.

“Thanks, pal,” slurred Poe, slapping his shot glass down on the bar with a wet thud. “I promise to bring you back somethin’ nice from my next mission. ‘S too bad those Hutts had to go and blow up all their liquor…”

“Captain Dameron, I thought I’d find you here,” said Admiral Kaydel Ko Connix, stiffly sidling up behind him.

“Hey Admiral, how’s it goin’?”

“It’s _goin’_ fine, except that the numbers from Nimban just came back. We need to talk about all the damage you caused.”

“The damage _I_ caused?? Whaddaya mean? That explosion was totally not my fault…”

“Captain, look…” The admiral set her jaw, as she prepared what she was about to say. “You know none of us will ever forget the role you played in bringing the war to an end, but you can’t expect everyone who serves with you to just look the other way every time you go and engage in needlessly reckless behavior.”

“Whaaaat? Nooo… Nimban was a total success! Apart from, well, the whole them getting blown up thing…”

The admiral sighed. “Captain… _Poe_ , listen to me. I know it’s been a slow slide downhill, but _look_ at yourself. The war’s been over for nearly five years. You should be an admiral yourself by now—or a _general_ , or _something._  But you keep sabotaging yourself! Every mission you go on, you barely seem to escape from! Maybe there haven’t been any catastrophic failures, but the collateral damage, and the _stress_ you put your whole team through—it’s too much.”

Poe endured quietly, his brow furrowed, slumped over his folded-up forearms as he rested on the bar counter, listening to his longtime friend, now superior officer, berate him. He pretended not to notice that the bartender had poured his drink, but waited with it at the other end of the bar for Poe’s verbal lashing to wrap itself up.

He would have to wait a little longer.

Connix continued, “You don’t take advice from your teammates, and only follow maybe _half_ the orders you’re given. That you’re even still as high-ranking as _captain_ is a testament to the respect you earned at the close of the war.” She paused in her tirade to regard what was left of the Resistance hero in front of her. “I’m grounding you. Effective immediately.”

Poe sat up straight, wide-eyed and astonished. _“What??_ You—you _can’t_ mean that!”

“I’m sorry, Poe. Really, I am. But you need… some _time._ Get your head straight. Get _sober._ When you’ve cleaned yourself up a bit, find me, and we’ll talk.”

Poe was frozen, shell-shocked and umoving. The bartender held his arm in place, outstretched over the part of the bar he’d been pretending to clean for the last two minutes. He held his breath.

Admiral Connix looked like she was about to say something else, but thought better of it. Without another word, she turned on her heel and was out of the cantina.

The bartender continued to quietly survey the distressed pilot. Slowly, he reached for the glass of whisky he’d been keeping ready for Poe, and set it lightly down in front of him.

Poe’s eyes regained their focus. He looked at the bartender, then down at the glass in front of him. He picked up the glass and raised it, but stopped himself halfway, a shaky breath escaping his lips. Looking once more at the man in front of him, Poe knocked back the whisky, set the glass on the counter, and left.

**———**

“That’s not very nice, you know.”

Ren looked up from his plaything to the source of disapproval. The sun was directly behind her head, making it impossible to see her face, but he knew who it was.

“Hi Malfi. What do you mean? I’m not hurting it.”

“Maybe not, but it obviously wants to get away. You’re tormenting it by dragging it back every time.”

Ren was confused. “The others ate theirs. Isn’t that meaner? I’m just playing.”

Malfi plucked the lizard out of Ren’s tiny hands and tossed it into the tall grass, where it landed softly before scurrying away. “How would you feel if that was you?”

Ren crinkled his brows together, thinking seriously before answering. “Better than if I’d been eaten.”

Malfi sighed, and took Ren’s hand, pulling him up from the ground. “Come on, you. Quit playing around and come eat some actual food.”

Ren and Malfi walked hand in hand out of the forest to where the rest of the students had gathered. Some were still finishing their lunches and others were busily cleaning up after themselves. There was a large covered cooking station that had been built on the grounds a stone’s throw from Mister Simeon’s cottage. Solar panels on the rooftop provided the energy needed for most of the cooking and food preservation. Purified well water supplied all the hydration necessary for washing up.

Finnie was there, scraping the last of her meal into the biomass generator. Whatever energy the inhabitants of the school couldn’t put into their bodies went into the generator to provide energy for the school’s other systems.

“Finnie!” shouted Ren as he laid eyes on her. Letting go of Malfi’s hand, he ran up behind Finnie and wrapped his arms tightly around her legs, burying his face in her backside.

Finnie was so startled she nearly dropped her plate. “Whoa! Jeez, Ren! It’s good to see you too, but _man_ , get your face outta my…” she shouted, trailing off.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“Since this morning. Dad and I were sparring with pikes. I almost beat him today!”

 _“Really??”_ Ren was genuinely astonished. There were few individuals he looked up to more than his “Uncle Finn”.

“Yup! Pretty soon I’m gonna be taking on whole gangs of thugs on my own,” she bragged.

“Will you be here for the rest of the day? I wanna pike fight with you!”

Finnie cocked her head incredulously. “Uh, maybe. I’m not sure how much longer we’re here for. I think dad wanted to see Poe—he should be back from his mission soon, if he isn’t already.”

Ren shut his dark eyes and focused his energy. “He’s back,” he said confidently.

Malfi and Finnie exchanged glances. “Well, there you go, then. I probably won’t be sticking around that much longer, I guess.”

Ren frowned. “Hmph. Well, sit with me while I eat? Pleeease??”

Ren was only five years old—clearly, just a kid. The youngest kid at the school, in fact. He was naïve and goofy, but oddly knowing—and accepting of everyone. Like Malfi, Ren Solo was someone that Finnie felt comfortable being around. Someone that made her feel included.

Looking at his pleading eyes, Finnie had to smile. “Sure, kid. I’ll sit with you.”

**———**

Inside Simeon’s cabin, communications equipment began to sound.

“Speak of the devil,” intoned Ben, rising from his seat at the table.

Finn and Rey watched him enter the cottage. “Is he talking about Simeon?” asked Finn. “Can you still say ‘Speak of the devil’ if you weren’t _just_ talking about someone? What’s the limit on the amount of time you can let pass before saying something like that becomes weird?”

Rey smiled, taking that as a rhetorical question. “Did you get enough to eat?” she asked, gesturing to the plate in front of him. “Personally, I find just one dwarf hawk isn’t typically enough food…”

“Well, it’s _you_ , so, I’m not surprised,” he remarked, teasing. “However, I think I _will_ take Ben’s leftovers, after all.” He reached for the remaining cubes of soft white cheese laying scattered on Ben’s plate. They were a bit warm and greasy from sitting out under the midday sun, but still quite tasty. Finn laughed inwardly at this strange place—part Not-Quite-Jedi school, part organic dairy farm. How progressive…

Ducking under the low arch of the door, Ben stepped out from Simeon’s cottage. “They’ll be back tomorrow. They still have to pick up their extra parts on Naboo, but besides that, they’re basically done.”

“That was fast,” said Rey.

“Yeah. Simeon said Temiri heard the right crystal calling to him within hours of setting out.”

 _“‘Calling’_ to him?” asked Finn. “What’s that about? Crystals talk now?”

“Kyber crystals are sentient,” explained Ben. “They choose you, not the other way around.”

“But didn’t Rey just, like, find her saber in a basement, and that was it?” he asked. “Seemed pretty much like happenstance to me.”

“That was an unusual circumstance,” said Ben, watching Rey, a tiny smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “It doesn’t typically work like that.”

Finn studied the look that passed between his two Force-sensitive companions. He felt tears threaten his eyes, and stood abruptly up from his seat. Ben and Rey jumped mildly in surprise.

“I should go,” said Finn. “When I left the base this morning, there were rumors that Poe’s mission to Nimban was already wrapping up. If true, he could be back by now. I should collect Finnie and see how it went.” 

“Missions to places as screwed up as Nimban never wrap themselves up neatly in so little time,” commented Ben, looking Finn right in the eyes.

“I’m sure you’re right,” agreed Finn knowingly.

“Give him our best,” said Rey, and she stepped over to Finn for a parting embrace. “I love you, my friend. Please take care.”

Finn shut his eyes tight. “I will. Thank you.” They held their hug for another few seconds before Finn finally pulled away. He turned away briskly so they wouldn’t see the moisture glistening at the corners of his eyes, but they knew it was there anyway.

“I’m sure we’ll be back tomorrow,” said Finn as he walked away. “I can’t wait to see these intelligent crystals in all their, uh, sparkly glory.” Then, with a wave over his head, “See ya.”

Ben and Rey watched silently as their friend receded from view.

**———**

_Ben? Ben, is that you?_

He looked around, but all he saw was blackness. Rubbing his eyes, Ben tried desperately to discern any form from his surroundings, but there was nothing. Did his hands actually find his eyes? He couldn’t feel them. He tried to call out, but no words came.

_Ben, thank goodness. Can you see me? It’s your grandfather. It’s Anakin…_

Ben was frozen. He used to believe he could hear his grandfather’s voice inside his head, but not since Snoke’s demise had there been any recurrence of that. He had surmised that it had all been part of Snoke’s manipulation, or perhaps his own slipping mental health, that had been the cause of those voices.

_No Ben, you’re not crazy, it’s me. There is so much I wish I could say to you right now, but I have no time. I need your help…_

Ben’s chest felt tight. He couldn’t summon any breath. He thought he might suffocate.

_You have to find me, Ben… I might die. That is, my soul… Please find me… Follow your blood… Follow it back to me…_

Ben was having a panic attack. He felt his grandfather’s urgency, but had no ability to respond. He couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. In his mind alone, he screamed for his grandfather.

And then, just like that, the blackness was a brilliant radiance. His lungs felt a sudden intake of breath, and his muscles engaged—

—and he shot bolt upright in bed, knocking Rey to the floor.

Ben was sweating profusely. The lantern in his room was on. He felt totally disoriented.

Rey lay on the floor at the foot of their bed, clutching her face where he had headbutted her. She was completely bedraggled, and panting from exhaustion. Her nightshirt was sticking to her body with sweat. “Ben, holy _fuck!”_ she exclaimed, but not out of anger.

Ren stood in the doorway in his pajamas, clutching his bedsheet and looking frightened as he surveyed his parents.

“Ben, are you alright!? Holy shit, I thought you were dying!” This was serious. Rey almost never cursed, and never twice in a row. And never in front of Ren.

Ben had to take several more breaths before he could speak. “Was that a dream? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, but _dammit_ , you were absolutely unreachable!”

“What do you mean, ‘unreachable’? What the hell was I doing?”

“You were screaming _‘grandfather’_ over and over! I thought it was just a nightmare, but I couldn’t wake you. I turned the light on, and your eyes were open and you were white as a sheet, just screaming and screaming!”

That wasn’t at all the way Ben remembered it. And that was nothing like any dream he’d ever had before.

“I had to concentrate really hard to snap you out of it,” said Rey. “I’ve never had such a hard time connecting to you. As soon as I finally did, that’s when you shot out of bed and popped me in the face.” She was still clutching her eye.

Ben crawled out of bed and knelt beside Rey on the floor. Smoothing her hair away from her face, he surveyed the damage and kissed the mottled, darkening flesh around her eye.

“I’m fine, really. It’s _you_ I’m worried about,” she said, taking his hand.

“Mama? Daddy?” called Ren nervously from the doorway. He was still cautiously watching them, his blanket held fast to his chest.

“It’s okay now, sweetie, come here,” called Rey, beckoning to her son. Unsteadily, he made his way over to them. Rey pulled him into the middle of their huddled mass on the floor and kissed his forehead and cheeks, hugging him close. Ben rubbed his back affectionately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare everyone,” said Ben, as reassuringly as he could.

Ren turned from his mother, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck in order to kiss him repeatedly on his face.

“It’s okay, daddy. You’re safe now. I’ll protect you.”


	2. Happy Returns

**———Chapter 2:** **Happy Returns** **———**

Finn was up way too early—at least, that is, if being _awake_ counted as being “up”. He was just sitting upright in bed, he wasn’t sure for how long.

When he and Finnie had left the school yesterday, he had done so wanting to talk to Poe, but by the time they’d made it back to base, he knew that wasn’t it. He didn’t really want to talk to _anyone_. He’d ended up just farting around in the hangar for the rest of the day while Finnie busied herself critiquing the fencing trainees on their form.

Talking to anyone just made it hurt more. So, in keeping with his desire to avoid human interaction to the extent that such avoidance was even possible, he was having trouble even getting out of bed. 

“Dad?”

Finn jumped. He hadn’t heard Finnie come in. “What is it, sweetheart? I mean, good morning. How are you?” Finn wiped some crud from the corners of his eyes and straightened up a bit.

“I’m fine,” she said, pausing tentatively. “How are _you?”_ Fixing him with an appraising stare, she asked this like she was anticipating she knew the answer better than he did.

“Fine, sorry, how long have you been up? What time is it?”

“It’s sunrise. I’ve been up about a half hour.”

“Oh, okay, good, good.”

Finnie sighed and sat next to him on his bed—in the place Rose used to sleep. “Dad, I’m worried about you.”

Finn looked at his hands. “I know you are, sweetheart. And I’m sorry. I just miss her so much.”

“I know you do. I do too.”

Finn nodded. As long as he’d known her, Rose had always been Finn’s guiding light. Without her, Finn lost a lot of security. He had come to rely on her to help him gauge if what he was doing was correct. He had taken for granted that she would always know best, and for the past year since the accident that claimed her life, in her absence, the responsibility of decision-making had become overwhelming. The stakes were so much higher now than they were before. He didn’t want to face it alone. The impending anniversary of her death was bringing all of his insecurities back to the surface.

“Are you going to see Poe today?” she asked.

Finn nodded. “Yeah, I should check in with him. Nimban was a mess, and he got back a lot earlier than I was expecting he would. Probably not for good reasons.”

“I think that’s a good idea. He needs you. You need each other.”

Finn turned and really looked at her. This beautiful child with those big, blue, sympathetic eyes, sitting on the bed next to him. In the parent-comforting-the-distressed-child scenario, he was the child.

“How old are you again? I feel like you have absolutely no right to be this wise…”

Finnie gave a small laugh. “I am precisely five feet, eight inches old. Just imagine how wise I’ll be when I get to six-three.”

Finn smiled. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, dad. Now get out of bed. It’s boring being up without you.”

**———**

The speeder pulled up to the paddock with a whine, and Temiri hopped out of the driver’s seat. Simeon followed, but less eagerly.

“Temiri!” shouted Malfi from the breakfast table. She dropped her fork and jumped up to run to her friend, embracing him fiercely as soon as she was on him. The other children at the table, Geddy, Prana, Fern, and Shiroto, greeted their returning comrade with a cheerful wave.

Temiri had to let one of the large sacks he was carrying drop to the ground as Malfi flounced into him, but he was all too happy to return the embrace. “Good to be back, short-stuff. Did you stay out of trouble while I was away?”

“You know I always do. But did _you_ stay out of trouble? Mister Simeon, how bad was he?”

Simeon smiled evenly. “He was reasonably well-tempered. Though I should note, any mischief on his part might have resulted in an abort of the mission. I’m sure avoiding that consequence had to be a motivating factor for him.”

Temiri rolled his eyes somewhat unsubtly at the equally unsubtle jab. Malfi, on the other hand, only had ears for the positive implications of what she’d heard.

“So you found a kyber? That’s so cool! Can I see it?”

“Yeah, but in a little while,” replied Temiri. “Breakfast on Naboo was hours ago—I’m starving! Let me get my bags back to my cabin, then I’ll eat, _then_ I’ll show you.”

Malfi pouted, but eventually relented. She offered to carry one of Temiri’s smaller bags back to his cabin with him, and the two headed off toward the forest.

“And all is again right with the world,” remarked Rey as the two learners disappeared behind the trees. “She manages just fine on her own, but the amount more joy she feels when he’s around is practically palpable.”

“He, too, is a different person,” replied Simeon. “He is very strong with the Force, but doesn’t govern his emotions well. When she is near, he has better control.”

“Hm,” she acknowledged. “So, tell me about your trip. I gather everything at Christophsis went smoothly?”

“Yes, Christophsis went as planned. Better, even. It is what we witnessed on Naboo, however, that we need to discuss.”

Rey was taken aback. “On Naboo? What do you mean?”

“Is Lord Solo near? We should discuss this together.”

Rey sighed. “You know he hates it when you call him that. No, he’s back at our cabin doing some research. He had a disturbing dream last night and something about it made him feel the need to do some digging before coming to breakfast.”

“Troubling…” Simeon had a faraway look in his eyes. His usually staid expression was slipping, leaving Rey incredibly unsettled. _'All will transpire as the Force wills it to,'_ was a common refrain of his, and for that demeanor to fall away, well… that could only be a bad sign.

Rey eyed him warily as Simeon gave a parting nod and slung his travel pack back onto his shoulder, headed into his cottage to settle in and upack.

**———**

Ben leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. In spite of his poking around in historical records, he hadn’t really found anything terribly useful. He had thoroughly researched his family history long ago—of course there was nothing new. He had hoped to somehow find something he’d overlooked before, some magic scrap of information that would pop out at him with some new relevance today.

The distant whine of a speeder engine came to a stop outside, and Ben stretched as he stood from his computer terminal. He knocked his chair back toward the desk and left the study, heading for the front room.

As he entered, Rey and Simeon were already seated at the table. Rey was leaning casually into the back of the chair, but if Simeon had a failing, it’s that he was incapable of relaxation—even when he was “relaxed”, he looked stiff. He sat ramrod-straight in the angular wooden chair, his legs and torso at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

“My lord,” he greeted, nodding to Ben as he stepped through the doorway.

Ben didn’t love titles, but had long given up trying to change the way Simeon addressed him. He simply nodded back and took a seat at the table.

“So Christophsis went well? Temiri is ready?” Ben asked casually, though he could sense that they weren’t there to discuss the crystal.

“Yes. It was not long before he found the crystal. He has studied what he needs to do, and is prepared to begin construction.”

“Excellent. The Republic needs men like him out there to help where it’s needed.”

“Mmm,” muttered Simeon, noncommittally. “He is headstrong. Powerful and well-intentioned, but impulsive. He acts without thinking, and has an over-inflated sense of his own wisdom…”

“We all do, before we’ve been tested. Except maybe for Rey,” he added, looking at her appreciatively.

Rey gave a modest smile. “That extreme has its limitations too.”

“True, but regardless,” said Simeon, “he is at a vulnerable stage. Power without wisdom can have devastating consequences.”

“Well, isn’t it a good thing he still has his teachers,” added Rey with a sigh, speaking rhetorically. “He isn’t alone.” She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together under her chin.

“No, he’s not,” agreed Ben, staring off across the room.

There followed an uncomfortable silence. Simeon glanced back and forth between his two comrades. He felt a hesitation from each of them; an unwillingness to broach less comfortable subjects.

“So, my lord” said Simeon, breaking the silence, “Lady Rey tells me you had a disturbing dream last night. Would you like to discuss it?”

Ben exhaled, taken aback. He set his jaw and looked Rey in the eyes as she gave a small apologetic shrug. Turning to Simeon, he said, “I’m sure it’s nothing, but yes, something happened last night.” He paused, looking for the words. “I was having a dream… In it, my grandfather was trying to get me to help him.”

“Your grandfather Anakin Skywalker?”

“Yes,” replied Ben. “He… said his _soul_ was dying. That I needed to find him. And help him.”

There was another awkward silence as it seemed like Ben might be considering letting the conversation die there, or like Simeon had something to say, but wouldn’t say it. In spite of Ben’s reluctance to talk about it, Rey was anxious to make some headway on this subject, and though Simeon had gotten the ball rolling, he wasn’t pushy enough to prevent it from coming to a stop. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Rey blurted out impatiently, “—But this wasn’t like a normal dream. Simeon, it was like he was _cut off_ from me. I couldn’t wake him, I couldn’t connect to him. And you should have seen him—he was so pale, it was like the blood had been drained out of him.” Rey stared at Ben with concern, who looked down at the table with something like defeat on his face. He wanted to rebut what she was saying, to give it less significance. He couldn’t, and it troubled him.

“Ben, if you really thought it was nothing, you’d have come with me to the school this morning, not spent all afternoon in the study,” she added.

Reluctantly, Ben nodded. “You’re right, this was different. It didn’t _feel_ like a normal dream. I felt… _crushed.”_

“Do you mean, like, claustrophobic?” asked Simeon.

“I don’t know, maybe…” Ben answered with a slow shake of his head. “It wasn’t really my _body_ being crushed, though, it was more like… there was a vise-grip on my…” Ben clenched and unclenched his fists, searching for words, “my _essence,_ if that’s the right word.”

“Interesting,” pondered Simeon. 

Rey found herself looking at him as though he were a medic making a diagnosis—Ben was afflicted with some disease and Simeon could cure it. She listened hopefully as he continued.

“Do you plan to do anything?” he asked. “What is it you were researching this morning?”

“I’m not sure. In the dream, my grandfather said, _‘Follow your blood back to me,’_ so I thought maybe I should look back at the family history to see if anything would leap out at me that could be a… clue for interpreting it. But nothing did.”

Simeon considered this line of inquiry. “Tell me your family connection to Naboo.” 

“Naboo?” Rey whipped her head toward him—he was on to something, she knew it.

Ben cocked his head. “My grandmother was from Naboo. Did you know that already?”

Simeon shook his head. “No, I only knew that Anakin Skywalker—Darth Vader—was your grandfather. I ask because of what I witnessed when Temiri and I visited there.”

“And what is that, exactly?” probed Rey.

“The Black Dragons,” answered Simeon cryptically.

“What are the Black Dragons, Simeon? Is that a thing I should know?” asked Rey.

“I don’t know why you would, my lady,” he said, bowing his head toward her. “As Temiri and I walked the streets of Theed, I couldn’t help noticing that the city, though beautifully adorned and pristinely kept, was shot through with vandalism. I couldn’t easily tell what it was supposed to be, at first, so I merely filed it away in my head as a queer observation. I saw several such symbols of some sort of lizard head, but it wasn’t until I found a city maintenance worker charged with cleaning it off that I learned what it was.”

Simeon took a breath, but did not keep Rey waiting long for his story to continue. “The maintenance worker was cleaning the black paint off of a statue in the town square, grousing about the ‘disrespectful weirdos, defacing the beloved queen with their black dragons,’ that I finally could see that the symbol was intended to be of a dragon’s head inside a circle. There’s a red spot in the middle that’s supposed to be an eye.”

“A statue of a queen? Which queen?” asked Ben.

“There was a plaque. I believe it was… Amidala.”

Rey and Ben exchanged glances. “My grandmother,” Ben said flatly.

“I see…” Incredibly, Simeon straightened even further as he took in this information. “I didn’t realize your royal lineage went beyond that of your mother, whom I know to have been adopted.”

“Yes, my family was into everything,” Ben replied, dismissively. “So, the Black Dragons.” 

“—But what _are_ the Black Dragons?” Rey asked impatiently.

“They are acolytes of the Sith. Cultists,” said Simeon.

“And what is their history?” asked Rey.

Simeon shook his head. “Mostly it’s legend, myth… not history. But—‘Black Dragons’ was the name of the shadow army that guarded the Sith temples. Long dead. Gone. Their presence on Naboo must be a relatively recent phenomenon.”

“I see,” said Ben, thinking.

Rey pressed them. “Is this coincidence, or not? What could Ben’s dream and Sith cultists on Naboo have to do with each other?”

“Perhaps these cultists are manipulating the Force in some way that is harmful to your grandfather’s spirit? Maybe your grandfather reached out to you for help because of their actions.” Simeon steepled his fingers together in front of his face as he speculated about the possible relationships between these two developments.

Ben reached across the table, taking Rey’s hand. He squeezed it affectionately, then let it go as he pushed his chair back from the table. “I think a little more research is in order.”

Simeon locked Rey in a gaze that said _Let him go_ , and subtly jerked his head toward the door. Puzzled, Rey followed him out of the cottage as Ben headed back into the study.

Once outside, Simeon said, “Lady Rey, may we speak?”

Rey had never liked being addressed as “Lady”, but it was something she had begrudgingly come to accept. Simeon always carried an air of formality, and for whatever reason, he seemed incapable of treating Ben and Rey as anything less than royalty. Even still, there was something else unsettling about the way he was addressing her. She nodded for him to continue. “Let’s sit.”

The two of them moved to a table and chairs outside the cottage. After Ren was born, Rey had taken to having dinner outside. She had grown up alone on an arid planet—that her son could share his meals with his parents at a table overlooking a lush forest and a crystal clear lake was a luxury she would never take for granted. Every meal shared with just Ben and her son in this beautiful place, to Rey, was like seeing her most fanciful delusions fully realized.

Now, though, she sat at her table with a sense of trepidation.

Rey sat down first. This was another of Simeon’s extra little courtesies—always the last to sit.

“What’s on your mind, Simeon?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Simeon joined her at the table and pulled his chair in close. “My lady, I need your help, and am reluctant to bring this up in front of Lord Solo, as it concerns his family—that is, his extended family. I know this subject is of great consequence to him, holding tremendous emotional significance, and sometimes when I speak of facts, I can be… inconsiderate in my descriptions.”

“What’s your concern?”

“It was… the reason Lord Solo’s grandfather gave him for needing his help. Has Anakin Skywalker ever contacted him before this?”

“We’re not totally sure. He says he heard Vader’s voice calling to him when he was with the First Order, but not since. We chalked it up to Snoke manipulating him.”

Simeon considered this. “Hmm, that’s possible. Do you… know if Skywalker retained the Jedi ability to manifest his spirit after becoming one with the Force?”

This doubt must have been the reason for Simeon’s reluctance to bring this up in front of Ben. The ability to manifest as a ghost is dependent on knowledge, training, and talent—calling into question Anakin Skywalker’s ability to manifest himself could be seen as an insult. Rey didn’t believe Ben would have been offended, but she _did_ believe that it was a risk Simeon, in his way, was nervous about taking.

“Again, not sure. Ben certainly never saw him appear as a ghost or anything, but just because Ben didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it wasn’t possible.” Rey paused to think—she didn’t actually know _that_ much about Force ghosts. Luke had pulled her out of time and space to visit her during her battle with Prarathi Ren back on Kamino. Beyond that, she had only heard and read anecdotes of Jedi reappearing to counsel the living.

“Is there a limit to how many years can pass before someone’s spirit loses the ability to make contact? Do you know?” she asked.

“Yes, but there’s no way to tell how long that time would be—it can be different for everyone,” he explained. “Eventually, one’s spirit must pass into the Netherworld of the Force. There are no records of anyone ever returning from there.”

“I see,” she said, nodding subtly.

Simeon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as he returned to his worries. “Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure what my concern really is—I cannot understand what actual threat there would be to someone’s spirit once they have become one with the Force. They are _one_ with the Force, and the Force is… it just _is._ It’s energy. It is _everything._ How can one bring harm to the very fabric of __everything?__

“To use an analogy, it would be like trying to collect a few _specific_ molecules of water, as distinct from the rest, within a great ocean. They’re not necessarily in the same place, and collecting them, even _finding_ them, without collecting a lot of other water molecules at the same time, is virtually impossible. Except, even this analogy doesn’t entirely capture the scope of the problem, because two water molecules at least have forms that are physically distinct and _technically_ , at  least, capable of separation—spirits are _not,_ necessarily.” Simeon fixed her with an uncomprehending look. “I just don’t understand how anything so inextricably linked to something so vast could possibly be harmed. By _what?”_

Rey nodded her head, thinking she might understand. “So you’re saying that there’s really no way to harm a single spirit without harming the entire Force itself…” She paused, considering. “But is that the case even if the spirit is capable of manifestation? You don’t think manifesting would allow the spirit, to… I don’t know, _coalesce_ , or something, making it easier to get at?”

“And you’ve now arrived at the reason for my first question, my lady. I believe a malevolent endeavor of this type would have tremendously low odds of success even _if_ the spirit was capable of manifestation, and we don’t know if Anakin Skywalker maintains that ability—assuming he ever had it, of course.” There was a crinkle above the bridge of Simeon’s nose that Rey had never seen before. He shook his head in consternation. “Something about this just doesn’t… make _sense.”_

Rey had never seen him this uncertain before. In the years since they’d met, Rey had begun to see Simeon as the one person who, no matter the question, always had the answer—to the point that it could be frustrating for his peers and pupils alike when he wouldn’t spit it out quickly enough to satisfy anyone’s need for instant gratification. Simeon was the sort of teacher whose approach was to watch with kind eyes, wait as his pupils put the answers together by themselves, and step in only when it looked like a snag had been hit. In this instance, he was the one caught on a snag, and his perturbation was unsettling.

Rey sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Your worry worries me,” she said with a frown.

Simeon shared her sentiment. “My lady, promise me you’ll tell me of any new developments, should they occur. I want to be in a position to help.”

“I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”

**———**

“So where is it? Where, where, where?? Come on, get it out!”

 _“Patience,_ Malfi. Get a hold of yourself, kiddo. You act like you’ve never seen a kyber crystal before,” Temiri said, smiling.

“I know, I know, but this is _your_ kyber crystal! I want to see the crystal that picked you.”

Temiri’s cheeks pinked a little at the compliment. He knew that this little girl adored him, and that to her, everything he did was incredible. Of _course,_ in her eyes, his crystal was going to be the greatest crystal in the galaxy, as far as she was concerned. It felt good, though the weight of responsibility it brought was not an easy one to shake.

“Turn on the lantern, and I’ll find my stuff.”

Malfi scampered off to the lantern in the corner. All the cottages scattered in the forests of Dendrokaan were basically the same—the people that had long ago settled and subsequently abandoned this colony were not terribly creative when it came to floor planning. Like Simeon’s cabin, Temiri’s home had a counter lining the back wall intended for food preparation, a bed fixed to the left wall, space for storage furniture, and a table in the middle of the room. 

Malfi climbed into a chair at the table as Temiri opened his pack and pulled out the treasure from his trip. Setting it on the table in front of her, he unwrapped it carefully, Malfi’s anticipation growing with every layer of cloth that was pulled back.

As the last strip of fabric was removed, Malfi’s eyes grew wide, taking in the sight before her. In the middle of the cloth sat a jagged, uneven crystal, colorless and dull. To the untrained eye, it was perfectly unremarkable; even to the Force-sensitive, it didn’t seem all that special, as these things go. But to Malfi, it was glorious.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “It’s so you.”

Temiri watched her as she studied the crystal. He was specially attuned to the resonance of his kyber, but even as it sat there, it seemed to grow louder.

“I can hear it,” she said, looking up at him in wonder.

Temiri cocked his head. _Really??_ he thought. It made no sense to him that Malfi should be able to hear the call of his kyber crystal.

Presaged by the sound of snapping twigs and snippets of conversation, the curtain obscuring Temiri’s doorway was pulled aside, and in popped the dark head of Ren Solo.

“Ha! I knew we’d find you here!” shouted Ren, throwing the curtain the rest of the way open and gesturing for his companions to follow him inside.

With the obvious exception of Malfi, Temiri preferred the company of the older students. However, he wasn’t about to tell the only son of his two famous teachers to take a hike. He took a seat next to Malfi, calmed his nerves, and waited to see what fresh hell Ren was inviting into his home.

Finn followed Ren through the entrance, but stopped once he was inside. “Uh, hi, I’m Finn. You’re Temiri, right? I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” Finn stuck his hand out for Temiri to shake.

Temiri stood up halfway, took Finn’s hand and gave it a firm shake. It was true, they’d never been formally introduced. All the students knew who he was, that he was a dear friend of Rey’s, but he had never been around often enough, or for long enough, for introductions to have seemed necessary. Only in the last year had his presence at the school been enough to really take note of, and frankly, at this point, formal introductions seemed awkward.

But of course, Malfi required no such introduction. She had always made it her business to introduce herself to everyone. “Hi, Mister Finn. Is Finnie with you?”

Before he could answer, Finnie was at the door. “Hey Malfi,” she said warmly, waving to her friend. To Temiri, she offered a casual wave of her hand, followed by a second, more curt, “Hey.”

“Hey,” greeted Temiri back. He knew this girl even less well than Finn.

“So this is a kyber crystal?” asked Finn. “Ben and Rey tell me these things are sentient. I’ve never seen one outside of a lightsaber, and well, _Finnie_ really wanted to see it,” he added quickly, earning him a questioning glance from her. “But, uh, _I_ was curious too.”

“Well,” stumbled Temiri, sitting back down, “Yeah, they _are_ sentient, that’s true, but not everyone can hear them. They only speak to certain people. One person at a time…”

“But I can hear his!” exclaimed Malfi excitedly.

“Neeeat,” intoned Ren, impressed, observing the crystal from just above the table top.

“Yeah… it’s a little… weird,” said Temiri. “I’ve never heard of a crystal calling out to more than one person at a time.”

“I have,” said Ren, and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. “My parents can both hear each others’.”

Temiri hadn’t known that, but it made a kind of sense to him. He knew his teachers were Force-bonded—that they should resonate with each other’s kyber crystals didn’t come as an enormous shock to him. That Malfi could hear his crystal, though, that was a surprise.

“So, you’ll build your lightsaber around this?” asked Finnie.

“Yeah,” answered Temiri. “I collected some of the other parts I need for it from Naboo. As soon as I can, I’ll work on constructing it.”

“Will that make it be quieter?” she asked.

“Uh, no. You just sort of get used to it after a while. You can hear it, but it’s like you don’t notice it.” Temiri realized he was sounding like some sort of expert, but he hardly felt like one. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway,” he added quickly.

Finnie nodded, looking strangely at the dull crystal resting innocently on the table, as if it made her uncomfortable. “Dad, we should go. We’re ignoring the other kids.”

Finn looked at his daughter, then back to the group gathered around the table. “Sure, honey, you’re right. I almost forgot that I’m here as something of a babysitter tonight.” He shifted his attention to Temiri, who had stood up out of politeness to his departing guests. “You’re a grown man, so I don’t suppose you’ll be needing much babysitting, but the others might. I suppose we’ll go station ourselves back at Simeon’s place. See ya ‘round, kid. Congratulations on the crystal.”

“Thank you, sir,” answered Temiri.

“Ren?” called Finn. “Coming or staying?”

“Coming!” He ran to the door to stand next to Finn, then turned around and waved enthusiastically to his two older peers. “See you later! Bye, Malfi!”

“Bye, Ren! I’ll come join you in a little while!” she called back.

The three of them left, leaving Malfi and Temiri alone once more. Temiri waited until he could no longer detect their presence, then spoke in a confidential tone, “That was weird.”

Malfi crinkled her forehead at him. “What do you mean ‘weird’? Those are my friends.”

“No, I mean, they’re perfectly nice, it’s just, I don’t know. Finn is fine, and I’m used to Ren being kind of a creepy little weirdo, but that girl is truly bizarre.”

“What’s bizarre about her?”

“Well, I don’t know, I mean, how old is she? Isn’t she like five or something?”

“Maybe, but she’s a clone, so who knows? What does it matter?”

“It’s just weird! I don’t know how to talk to someone if I can’t tell if they’re a kid or an adult—I mean, she’s _huge_. And did you see how she looked at my crystal? It was creepy.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that strange. Your crystal is just really neat. And how does her age change how you’d talk to her? Do you talk to me differently because I’m eleven than you do to our teachers? Or to Mister Finn?”

“Yes! I mean… that’s different, you’re like a sister.” _You can hear my crystal, for god’s sake,_ he thought. “And besides, I _do_ talk differently to Finn than I do to Ben, Rey, or Simeon, because I barely know the guy.”

“You can’t tell he’s a good person?”

“I don’t know!” he shouted, no longer concerned that he might be overheard. “Like I said, I really don’t know him that well! I’m sure he’s great, though, jeez!”

Malfi continued to fix him with a puzzled stare. “I thought you could feel the goodness in people,” she said simply.

Temiri flopped down into his chair. He felt like a disappointment somehow. He hadn’t meant for this to become a fight— _was_ it a fight?—he just hadn’t anticipated that his observations about their visitors would serve to make him seem so ignorant in the eyes of this little girl. He knew she looked up to him. He felt like he’d fallen into a trap that he set for himself.

“I’m sorry, Malfi.”

Malfi took her friend’s hand and pulled it close to her face. “Oh, Temiri, you’re so dumb,” she remarked, looking at him sweetly. He smiled sheepishly back at her. “You’re so lucky to have me around to teach you these things.”

He looked at his crystal, sitting motionlessly on the tabletop. He thought it had gotten a little louder.

Malfi followed his gaze back to the kyber. “Your crystal certainly thinks so.”

**———**

Poe laid back in his bed with his head on his pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what time it was—he’d been in his room all day, no windows to signal the passage of time, and he’d avoided checking his chronometer. He didn’t want to look until he was sure it was already too late to bother going outside. He was pretty sure he was close.

A knock at the door, and he groaned. He wouldn’t make it without human contact after all. Sighing deeply, he rolled over and threw his legs off the side of his bed. He hadn’t unlocked the door since locking it last night, so if he wasn’t going to totally ignore the person on the other side, he’d have to get up. Wait, _could_ he just ignore the person at the door?

“It’s me, Poe, open up. I know you’re in there. You have a very distinctive sigh.”

The corner of Poe’s mouth quirked up into something of a smile, and he nodded in reluctant agreement. Standing, he threw open the lock, and slowly pushed the door into the hall, being careful not to let it hit his visitor.

“Hi, Finn.”

With just that one greeting, Finn had all the information he needed to assess Poe’s state: his voice was gravelly, he looked sweaty and unkempt, and he reeked of stale booze.

“So tell me, just how badly did Nimban go?” asked Finn, cutting right to the chase.

Poe was a little shocked he’d had enough air inside himself to have deflated so thoroughly at Finn’s question, but he did. As the last of his breath escaped him, he rubbed his forehead morosely, and gestured for Finn to enter. “Come in, shut the door.” He fell limply to his bed, leaving enough space at the end for Finn to sit. Finn didn’t sit though.

Poe started to speak, but abruptly cleared his throat to get the rasp out of his voice. “Nimban was fine. I met all of my mission objectives. In record time, in fact.”

Finn stood in front of the closed door to Poe’s tiny quarters, looking down at his disheveled friend. He leaned back against the doorframe, not saying anything.

“What?” questioned Poe defensively. “Why are you looking at me like that? I told you: mission successful. End of anecdote.”

“Then why does it smell like a condemned distillery in here?”

Poe carded his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. He debated just how much he wanted to divulge. “There may have been some… collateral damage.”

“How bad?”

Poe took a big breath and held it. “Their outpost sort of blew up,” he said as he exhaled.

“The Hutts’ entire outpost? Holy shit, how did that happen?”

Poe shrugged. “I don’t know. There must have been some weapons caches or something on the grounds that I didn’t know about. They were shooting, I laid down some mild suppressing fire to protect my team, and the whole thing went up.”

“There were persistent unknowns going in? Yet the officers overseeing the mission still gave permission to open fire?”

Poe didn’t answer. He hadn’t asked permission. He just hadn’t been overtly told ‘no’.

Poe’s silence gave Finn his answer. He bit his lip, and stepped forward to lean a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Poe, man, you’ve gotta be more careful.”

Poe held his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I know,” was all he said.

Finn slumped onto the bed beside him, and leaned back against the wall. He let himself feel hopeless with his friend for a while, let his despair float over him and decided it felt okay. The two men didn’t move or speak. It felt like a long time, but really, was probably just a few seconds.

Eventually, Poe looked out from himself to see his friend there, sitting next to him. “So enough about me,” said Poe, finally breaking the silence, “How are _you_ doing?”

Finn took a moment to even make it clear that he’d heard the question. Slowly, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers under his chin. “I don’t know.”

Poe looked up at Finn, sorry that he couldn’t do anything to help. He knew he would never be able to patch up the hole that Rose’s absence had left in Finn’s life. “Boy, are we a pair,” he said with a sad chuckle. “I wish there was something I could do.”

Finn sighed. “Can I have a drink?”

Poe looked at Finn, who was looking right back. Their eyes met, and there was something in Finn’s expression that Poe couldn’t place. Of all the times to ask for a drink…

“Sorry, I, uh… I just got rid of all my booze.”

Finn’s eyebrows lifted. “Did you really?”

“Yeah, and if there was ever a good time to have liquor lying around, right? I’m sure not good for a whole hell of a lot, am I?” he asked rhetorically.

“Poe…” admonished Finn, “You know you’re—”

“Oh wait!” Poe interjected suddenly. “I’d completely forgotten about it…” Poe stood up from his bed and went into the wardrobe on the far wall. On the top shelf was a dilapidated box that looked like it hadn’t been touched in a long time. Finn noted a label hastily scrawled on the outside: ‘sentimental crap’.

Poe jerked the box off the shelf and set it carelessly on the floor at the foot of the bed. As he rifled through it, he noted the medal Poe had received (Finn had received one as well) in the wake of the Second Battle of Kamino. There were also photographs in the box, and Finn recognized several as having been taken on Corellia during the summit when they dedicated the new capital grounds in Coronet City. The day the Republic had been formally given its new central governing body.

Pushing the photos and other ‘sentimental crap’ aside, Poe revealed a bottle crafted from dark purple glass, emblazoned with the Republic insignia in gold filigree. “Corellian Dedication Wine,” said Poe. “I guess I was saving it for a special occasion.”

“Does tonight really rate?” asked Finn.

Poe nodded confidently, and answered with a very earnest, “Yes.” He took the bottle and sat back at the head of his bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand. “I must have a corkscrew in here somewhere.”

Finn didn’t want to think too hard about whether or not a corkscrew was a normal nightstand-type item for most people, or why Poe had felt it necessary to discard his entire supply of alcohol. A shadow of guilt crept upon him as he realized he may have been neglecting his friend, in deliberate denial about his drinking habits. But right now, he was just grateful to be able to enjoy a drink with his best friend, for the first time in what felt like ages.

“I don’t have any glasses, though,” observed Poe apologetically.

“It doesn’t matter,” replied Finn, shaking his head dismissively.

Poe agreed, and removed the cork. He took a sniff off the top of the bottle, and nodded his approval. “You first,” he said, offering the wine to Finn.

Finn accepted, and took a long swig. When he was finished, a little wine dribbled down his chin, and he studied the bottle in his hands, reading the label. _“‘In honor of our galaxy, governed by many, but united as one. Long may it prosper.’_ A little hokey, don’t you think?” he said, returning the bottle to Poe.

Poe’s fingers brushed against Finn’s as he accepted the bottle back. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it is, but hokey shit brings people together, doesn’t it? I mean, it _was_ kind of a momentous occasion—the galaxy had found its way. _You_ certainly had. Rey had, and Ben… everyone,” he added, trailing off. Poe then took a sip off the bottle, a faraway look in his eyes.

Finn watched him. Poe’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the smooth, dense wine. In that moment, Finn thought Poe looked desperately sad.

“Everyone but you,” Finn observed, quietly.

Poe’s face was stretched, the lines of his mouth drawn into a frown so tight it must have made drinking from the bottle a challenge. A trickle of fluid ran down his chin. Poe sniffled, and cleared his throat. “I don’t think I know what to do with peace.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

Finn put his arm around his friend’s shoulders. Poe was shaking, like a dam straining under intense pressure.

Then the dam broke. Poe was shuddering, bawling into his lap. Finn took the wine out of his hands and set it on the floor, then held Poe tighter. When Finnie was new, she had had many breakdowns before learning how she fit into this world—a clone of the enemy, too big for her age, feeling like, out of nowhere, she’d been thrust into a life with rules she didn’t know and could never understand. Finn would often find himself holding her like he was holding Poe now, rocking slightly back and forth as he reassuringly squeezed and patted his charge.

Poe leaned into him. “I’m sorry, Finn! I should have been there for you after Rose died! I just didn’t know what to say! I knew what you’d lost, but I was mad at you! I don’t even know _why!_ It doesn’t make sense! Why would I have been mad at you?! You didn’t deserve that! I’m such a piece of shit I don’t know what to do with myself!” With pleading eyes, Poe begged him, _“God, can you ever forgive me??”_

Listening to Poe breaking down in his arms did something to Finn that he’d never be able to describe. He was confused, he was heartbroken, he felt unworthy. He honestly didn’t know what Poe was talking about. He’d been so wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn’t noticed Poe treating him any differently. He actually thought Poe _had_ been there for him. That it was _he_ who had been unavailable to everyone else.

Finn looked down into the eyes of his tortured friend. It was like looking into a mirror. He imagined that it _was_ him in the mirror; the man within. What would he want the man in the mirror to say back to him?

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he said soothingly. “I’m here. I’ve always been here. I just… need to be clearer about that, I guess… Sorry.”

Poe’s heaving subsided as he stared up into Finn’s compassionate eyes. He snorted, laughing through the dregs of his sobs. 

Finn laughed too. The thought of the two of them, crying like baby wamprats, was just too much. Finn eventually swallowed back the tears, the laughter. “You need me buddy, I know. I need you too. We’re a god damn mess. But I promise you, together, we can make it right.”

Poe had stopped bawling. His cheeks were moist, and his face was flushed and wounded, but he had control again. “God, I wish I was drunk right now, Finn,” he said.

“You’re not? That wine went right to my head.”

“No,” Poe said, straightening up a bit. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been more sober in my life.” Poe looked around, finally seeming to notice just how close the two of them were. It was awkward, but oddly comfortable at the same time.

“You around tomorrow?” Poe asked.

“Yeah,” answered Finn. “I’ll be around.”


	3. Lessons

**———Chapter 3: Lessons———**

Once again, Ben found himself alone in the blackness of that bizarre dreamscape. Like the first time, he struggled to control the actions of his dream self—his body was that of a phantom, his senses weren’t his own. In spite of this, he did at least feel some measure of active _mental_ participation. This being his second time here, he was better prepared, more capable of controlling his emotions, his reactions. He tried to think more rationally about what he was experiencing.

Which isn’t to say that he didn’t still find the whole thing enormously off-putting.

The echo of the words preceded the voice. Ben steeled himself for the message. 

_Ben, I need you…_

Ben listened intently. He could feel the same crushing sensation he’d described to Simeon yesterday, and tried focusing to stave it off. He wanted to remain as in control as possible.

_Ben, why haven’t you come for me? I need you to hurry… Ben, please…_

Ben tried to speak, but found himself still incapable of interacting with this world. His voice would not come, his body was not his.

_Follow your blood… You should know where to find me…_

Ben was desperate to make this a two-way conversation. He needed more information. Where was he supposed to go to find his grandfather? What was the nature of the threat? How was Ben supposed to help? He hoped some hint of his needs would make it across to his grandfather.

The crushing sensation intensified. Ben tried to remain calm, to reassert his mental control over the world he was in, but the creeping blackness kept penetrating his consciousness, accompanied by an ever increasing wall of sound. Between the encroaching blackness, the thrumming noise, and the weight on his soul, he felt a panic attack building. As the sensations grew to a fever pitch, he became unable to control his hysteria. Though he had no lungs to fill with air, he knew that he was screaming.

It was coming for his soul, he was certain. He didn’t know what “it” was, but there was something—something in here with him. Some evil without form. Ben was paralyzed with terror. If the true darkness managed to touch him, he feared, he _knew,_ he could be lost forever. Is this the thing that was hunting his grandfather?

The intense pressure persisted, and Ben feared he was losing the fight. As his last reserves of resistance were about to fail him, the blackness seemed to falter. A rip in the fabric of the dreamscape allowed a sliver of light to enter the void, and at last there was some context to the vacuum of emptiness—the light brought air, and hope, and freedom. Ben focused on that thread, and with it, he was able to pull himself out, to push the darkness away.

With a gasp, he was back in his bedroom. 

Rey was on top of him, heaving and gasping with breath. She was flushed with exertion, and the muscles in her neck and chest were practically popping out of her skin. Their eyes met, and Rey collapsed into his chest, her hair splayed out over his face.

“Oh god,” she heaved. “Oh god, I thought I’d lost you…”

Ben’s disorientation didn’t last as long this time, and he recovered much more quickly. He rolled over in the bed, putting Rey on her back and looking her over. She was completely spent.

“Are you alright? Tell me what happened,” he said, smoothing her hair away from her face as he looked sympathetically down at her.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” she replied, between pants. She laughed humorlessly, “It was like before… we were asleep… then you woke me… moaning… I couldn’t wake you…” she paused to swallow and try to catch her breath.

Ben reached back toward his side of the bed for his glass of water. Doing so, he spotted Ren in the doorway, half-hiding behind the doorframe. For the second night in a row, he had woken his son with the sounds of his night terrors. He flashed a look of apology at Ren. “Even dads have nightmares,” he explained, feeling guilty for the trouble he was causing. He turned back to Rey and offered her his water.

Sitting up, Rey accepted the water and drank greedily, not stopping until the glass was empty. After returning the empty glass to the bedside table, Ben took her hand. “Tell me more,” he said.

She had stopped panting, but her breathing and heart rate were still elevated. As her adrenaline ebbed, she shivered in her sweat-soaked night shirt. “I had to go inside… to find you,” she said. “Like before, you were utterly pale. You started screaming, and I still hadn’t reached you.” Her face contorted a bit as she struggled to hold back tears. She glanced to her son, afraid to continue her tale in his presence.

“It’s okay, mama, go on. I’m not afraid. Everyone has nightmares sometimes. Even daddies,” he said bravely, walking up to the bed. He sat down gently on the bed at his father’s side, lifting his chin to show his lack of fear. Ben put a hand on his back to steady him.

 _We need to put him back to bed._ It was Rey, speaking into Ben’s mind.

Ben hesitated. He didn’t want what was happening to be so traumatizing. However, things were as the Force willed them. _I’ll take care of it. You wait here._

“Come on, Ren, let’s go back to your room.”

Rey sensed Ren’s disappointment, but beyond the subtlest look of frustration on his face, a look that only his mother would be able to recognize, did he express that he knew he was being given the cold shoulder. It was in his nature to want to help whenever he could. That his parents didn’t think he could help this time, made him sad.

After a minute or two, Ben had returned to their bedroom and sat down beside Rey. As he spoke, he straightened the sheets around them. “I think he’s more traumatized by us keeping something from him than he would be if we just talked in front of him.”

Rey frowned, “That’s possible, but even so… I’m not sure I can bring myself to speak in front of him.”

_Well, I told him we’d be going back to sleep too, so if we’re going to talk about it now…_

_...Then we’ll have to do it like this,_ answered Rey with a sigh. _What time is it, anyway? Is it even worth trying to go back to sleep? What if it happens again?_

_It’s at least a couple hours before sun up._

Rey weighed her options. She looked back at Ben and shook her head dolefully. _There’s something not right here, Ben. What I saw in there… it was terrifying. I don’t want you to go back to sleep._

Ben bit his lip. After a moment, he lowered his head into his hands and breathed a deep sigh before getting back out of bed and heading to the kitchen. “I’ll put on some caf…“

**———**

Finnie could tell from her chronometer that the sun had long since risen, but she still fought getting up. At least she knew she wasn’t the only one sleeping in—her dad was so late getting in last night she knew he had to still be in bed too. 

Last night, Finnie had been unable to turn her brain off, and sleep just wouldn’t come. As her mind swirled, her eyes had watched the minutes tick by. Every so often, a big chunk of numbers would get skipped, so she surmised she must have gotten at least _some_ shallow rest, but other than that, the night had been sleepless.

Something was happening. Something felt wrong. She didn’t know what it was, but there was a tension in the air that she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that it was just her imagination playing tricks on her. She had a fleeting, paranoid desire to double-check the records concerning Phasma’s mental health evaluations.

With a frustrated sigh, Finnie tossed back her sheets and got out of bed. She threw on some tan-colored pants and a white tank top, plucked her comlink from her bedside table and left her room. Her dad’s door was ajar, so she peeked in on him.

 _Well, at least_ he _seems to be having no trouble sleeping,_ she mused, taking in the sight of a completely prostrate, fully dressed Finn splayed out on top of his sheets. He was even snoring a little. She decided to leave him be, and headed to the canteen for breakfast by herself.

Dendrokaan, in spite of the relative peace across the galaxy, was still a secret military base. The planet was basically uncharted—one of the best-kept secrets in the galaxy. The Unified Republic Military saw no reason to add it to the maps. The people who came here, came because they wanted to train under the very best. Dendrokaan boasted the finest mechanics (thanks in large part to her mother Rose), the toughest combatants, the best pilots, and the most savvy strategists. Only people who were the very best at what they did, or whom the government felt should be _trained_ to be the very best, came here.

And they were all early risers, which meant the canteen was pretty deserted when Finnie finally rolled in. She collected her food in record time, and took a seat near a north-facing window gazing out toward the forest. Beyond her line of sight, about ten klicks to the north, was the school. It seemed like all the Force-sensitive people in the galaxy were collected there, she thought. What a strange fate she had, that she should have ended up on this planet.

 _There were literally thousands,_ hundreds _of thousands of other me’s, and only I got to live. And I get to live here. The best of the best, and me._

A strange fate, indeed.

**———**

That morning, Simeon noted that it was an unusually quiet breakfast. There were just six of them there: himself, and the five younger students—Temiri was the oldest, and he was spending his morning meditating over his kyber crystal.

“Where is everyone?” asked Prana, a thirteen-year-old Lothal girl whose parents had been killed for resisting during the First Order raids.

“Temiri’s with his crystal,” answered Shiroto. The second-oldest of the students, he had his own stone cottage in the forest not far from where Temiri lived. His parents were already dead before the raid. He had been surviving by his wits, living on the streets, when the First Order had snatched him up. “Where Ben, Rey, and Ren are, I don’t know.”

“Ben was gone all day yesterday, too,” observed Fern. “And Rey never misses breakfast. Is something up? I figured, what with Temiri back from Chiristophsis, they’d be… I don’t know, _talking_. About lightsabers and stuff. Why are they suddenly making themselves so scarce?”

“You think they’re having a fight or something?” asked Geddy. Geddy are Fern were brothers, fifteen and thirteen years old. As ten- and eight-year-olds, they had worked as farmhands on Lothal, earning a meager living to support themselves and their mother, who was wheelchair-bound. When the stormtroopers raiding Lothal took her children from her, she was shot without hesitation.

“Guys, knock it off,” chastised Malfi. “Don’t start gossiping. They would never fight.”

Things at the school were ordinarily so routine, and everyone was so tightly-knit with so few secrets, that any change from the norm was practically scandalous. Simeon decided it was time to redirect the conversation away from his fellow teachers. “The Solos have other matters on their minds at the moment. Give them some time.”

The children grew quiet at that, mild shame on their faces as they refocused back on their breakfasts. Fern, however, couldn’t just shut the fuck up.

“Hey Mister Simeon, how come you call them ‘the Solos’? They’re not actually married, right? I mean, Ren’s a—”

—Fern immediately stopped talking. All eyes were on him, wondering if he was actually going to say the word “bastard” to describe their teachers’ son. Fern shrunk under their gaze, too mortified to do anything else.

Malfi, disgusted, picked up her plate and left the table. Muttering to herself, she scraped her leftovers into the generator and abandoned her dirty dish on the prep counter before stomping off into the forest.

Simeon sighed, looking each student over with some disappointment. All of them, not only Fern, felt the sting of his disapproval—though it was Fern who had almost said it, they were, all of them, thinking it. Once he was sure they had all sufficiently gotten the message, Simeon rose from the table and quietly retreated to his cabin, leaving his students to think over their attitudes.

Once Simeon was out of earshot, Geddy spoke. “Fern, you dumbass.”

**———**

“Okay, show me what you’ve got.”

In the gym, two recruits were getting ready to spar with longswords. After breakfast, Finnie had gone there to while away some time practicing a bit of swordplay of her own. For now though, as she browsed the racks of weaponry, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from these two men as they postured for one another’s benefit.

“You’ll never get me, you know. I was top of my class back on Coruscant.”

“Coruscant huh? Buncha pansies. Back on Corellia, I fought off whole gangs of thugs at a time before enlisting in the army.”

“Well, tough guy, then I guess I should be no problem for you.” The soldier swung his sword, and the two were at it. Finnie was just grateful that their banter was finally finished.

Finnie practiced her form, silently observing the two men. Though she could believe that their bragging was based at least partly in fact, it was clear to her that they talked a better game than they played. After one particularly clumsy swing, she couldn’t stop herself before scoffing audibly.

She hadn’t meant to draw their attention, but she did.

The soldier from Coruscant cast an accusing eye in her direction. “Got something to say?” 

“No, sorry. I’m just here to practice,” she said, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

“She was laughing at you, bro!” howled the Corellian.

 _‘Bro’..._ she lamented, sighing. _Okay, fine…_ “No, actually, I was laughing at _you,”_ she stated, pointedly.

The two men paused, nonplussed. “Me?” asked the Corellian, genuinely befuddled. The Coruscanti also looked confused—it was he who had swung so awkwardly, after all.

“Yes, you. His swing may have been terrible, but the fact is, it almost got you. You were practically begging him to strike at you from that angle—you were using a fool ward.”

 _“‘Fool’,_ huh? I’ll show you who the fool is, you—”

“—No, a fool _ward._ It’s a type of stance. A fool ward is one where your sword is angled toward your feet, which is what opened you up to his attack. In that moment, you would have been better off with a plow ward.”

They looked at her like she was speaking Shyriiwook.

Finnie furrowed her brow. “A plow ward? You know, right foot forward, sword held by your knees, tip angled at your opponent’s chest?” With her own sword, she showed them exactly what she meant. They clearly had no idea what she was talking about. 

She sighed, dropping her sword a bit. “It was just coincidence that the stance you were making happened to be a fool ward, wasn’t it… You guys don’t actually know any stances, do you?” Rhetorical question.

The Corellian was done feeling like a greenhorn. “Listen, girl, just knowing the names of shit doesn’t make you a swordfighter. I’d like to see how smart you look actually _swinging_ that thing.”

Finnie frowned, and started to back away. It didn’t look to her like these two were actually interested in improving their craft—they just liked looking tough.

The Corellian snorted. “That’s what I thought. You probably don’t want to move around too much without a bra on, anyway—it probably hurts to have even tits _that_ small jostling around, eh bro?” he goaded, punching the Coruscanti playfully in the arm. The Coruscanti didn’t look to be entirely on board with where this was going, but to support his comrade-in-arms, he chuckled nonetheless.

Finnie glared at them levelly. Holding her sword in both hands, she planted her left foot forward and raised her sword hilt up to her face, blade angled squarely at the two men. “Let’s go,” she said, wondering what her mom would have said about this.

“Don’t make me laugh, girl. What stance is that? The _pussy_ ward?”

With a broad swing of her sword, she deliberately smashed into the Corellian’s blade, in a move intended to convey, _No, I’m serious… get your weapon ready._ However, he was so unprepared for an assault that he lost his grip on the handle and the sword clattered to the floor. Without even trying, she had succeeded in disarming him.

In his stead, the Coruscanti took a swipe at her with his own sword, slashing diagonally across her front. She easily voided the attack with a defensive step backward, countering with an uppercut. She’d have gutted him right then if she hadn’t pulled back at the last minute.

“I could have killed you there, just with my first swing. You have to drop the blade to your side to void an uppercut. Or didn’t they teach you that on Coruscant?” she said, knowing that her continuing to try to instruct them on proper form would only prove to incense them further.

By now, the Corellian had recovered his blade and was advancing to thrust. He broadcast his moves so blatantly that Finnie easily parried, and he plowed forward, barrelling into the empty space she had just stepped out of. She proceeded to slap him on the ass with the flat of her blade as he slipped past her.

The two men were now standing on either side of her, so Finnie dropped low into a stance that allowed her to defend from either angle. She managed to split her attention between them both, watching to see from which direction the next strike would come.

The Corellian was fuming. “Okay, you little bitch, I’m going to—”

“—That’s enough!” bellowed a voice from about fifty feet away. The three combatants had attracted a small crowd of onlookers, so the men weren’t sure exactly who was shouting, but Finnie knew instantly.

“I should report the both of you,” reprimanded Finn. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, challenging civilians?”

The two men straightened up at once, dropping their longswords to the floor. The soldier from Coruscant tried meekly to explain, “Apologies, sir! We were just… sparring!”

The Corellian attempted to assist his partner. “Yes, Commander Tico! Just sparring!”

“I suppose you’ve been humiliated enough already, but in the future, I suggest you think twice before picking fights with people you don’t know. It’s just your luck that she was feeling patient. She could have killed or maimed both of you without breaking a sweat. Blindfolded. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were actually _listening_ to her instruction?”

The two men glanced at each other before blubbering, “Uh, yes sir! Of course we were! She taught us… several new stances!”

“Very good, very good. And that last one, for the record, was the ‘ox ward’. Not the ‘pussy’ ward, as you called it…”

The blood drained instantly from the Corellian’s face. The Coruscanti nodded his head vigorously. As the crowd began to disperse, snickering mildly, the two men just stood there frozen.

Finn turned to leave, and Finnie followed, leaning her longsword back into the rack as they passed it. The two of them walked quietly out of the gym, slipping out an emergency door that took them directly outside into the morning air. In spite of the lateness of the day, there was still dew clinging to the grass, moistening their pant legs as they meandered through. Finnie held her father’s hand as they walked, ruminating quietly for a few minutes before saying anything.

“Were you watching the whole time?”

“I’m not sure. I got there right about the time you started explaining what a plow ward was.”

“Okay, well, at that point, I’d been there for a while on my own, just practicing, but it’d only been about a minute since I’d started _talking_ to them.”

“Those guys were assholes,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, they were,” she agreed. “Sorry.”

He looked at her. “What are you sorry for?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“I shouldn’t have engaged with them at all. I could tell from the way they talked to each other that they were hotheads—I should’ve just ignored them.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You probably did the Republic a favor. Guys like that need to be taken down a peg or two. Serves them right for underestimating you.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “However…” he added, preparing to lecture her.

They stopped walking and she turned to meet his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You need to remember something. Technically, you’re barely six years old. _Mentally_ , you’re more like fourteen. But _physically_ , you’re practically an adult. Guys like that are going to look at you and they’re not going to think they’re picking on a kid. It’s lucky that you already know a thing or two about how to defend yourself, because most of the people you encounter are not going to be pulling their punches. You need to remember that, talented though you may be, and physically strong, you’re still learning. You need to watch out that you don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“I get it, dad. I know.”

“I know you know, sweetheart. I’m just reminding you. It’s my job.” He took a step forward, and they resumed meandering.

Finnie strolled happily alongside her father, swiping at the dew with her boots as she swung her legs lazily through the grass with each step. She hadn’t felt such peace in a long while. She gave a happy sigh.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you, dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just, my _life_. How lucky I was to have ended up here, with you. It could have gone so differently for me. I’ve studied myself—well, my _former_ self, I mean. And I know there were thousands of clones. Phasma sounds like she was… awful. She was cloned, basically, _because_ she was awful. She was a killing machine.”

Finn’s heart sank. Is this how his daughter viewed herself?

“It’s just… I know you knew her, and there’s no way you liked her. I can’t imagine there’s many people who would’ve encountered a clone of someone so bad, and said to themselves, ‘Yeah, that’s what I want to raise for a kid!’ People must have thought you were nuts.”

He smiled sweetly at her. “I’ve just seen far too much evidence that… none of it really matters. How you were raised, who your parents were, what you were trained to do… none of it. What it all seems to boil down to, ultimately, is… what do you _want?_ Who is it that you _want_ to be?”

“Who do _you_ want to be, dad?”

Finn sighed deeply. “Kiddo… I’m not sure right now. I used to just want to be free. Then I _was_ free, so then I just wanted to be a good person, a good father. To fight for those I loved. That’s what I’ve been doing since I left the First Order, and I’ve been happy. I hope that’s still enough. It’s just that… without your mother, I’m…” His throat got tight, and he had to swallow before he could say anymore. “Without your mother, it’s just… _harder._ If I really think about it, I _know_ there’s still a point to everything, it’s just harder to remain _convinced_ that there’s still a point—it’s harder to _feel_. If the people I love can just disappear so quickly, with so little warning, despite all of my love, my devotion, and my hard work… then what’s the point?”

“You can’t save everyone, dad.”

“I know. I _know_ that. It’s just…”

“It’s just how you _feel,”_ she said, finishing his thought.

“Yeah.”

“Well, dad, if it helps, the next time you’re stuck trying to come up with what the point is of it all, I’d like you to think of something.”

“What’s that, hon?”

“I’d like you to ask yourself… what was the point of saving one clone out of tens of thousands? Was that effort worth the risk? Would you do it again?”

Instantly, tears erupted from Finn’s eyes, and he had to stop and really look at her. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “In a heartbeat, I would, yes.”

With the subtlest of smiles, she returned the look he was giving her. “Then there’s a point.” 

He pulled his daughter into a fierce hug and silently cried into the crook of her neck. Finnie wrapped her arms around her father’s waist and hugged him firmly back. For nearly a whole minute, he wept into her shoulder as they held each other.

The two of them pulled apart, but he kept his hands on her shoulders as he admired her. 

Finnie returned his approving stare. “So since you went to all that effort to keep me, and you seem willing to keep putting in the work, there’s something else that I could use your help with.”

“Anything,” he beamed at her.

There was a pregnant pause. “Tell me what a bra is.”

He pulled her into another hug that left him heaving into her shoulder, but this time, it was with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kudos hugely appreciated! I need a little nudging to remind me to make updates. :)


	4. Kith and Kin

**———Chapter 4: Kith and Kin———**

_Please forgive me for disturbing you, but your absence is now officially the subject of gossip among the students._

“Ugh, Simeon’s in my head,” lamented Ben. “Says the kids are gossiping about why we’re not there.”

“What are they saying? Or do you want _me_ to ask him?”

Ben growled. “I don’t really want to talk about it. I just wish everyone could pay attention to their own affairs for a little while. Give us a break.”

“You’re exhausted. Let me deal with this,” she said. She took it upon herself to project her thoughts to Simeon. _Sorry, Ben had another episode last night. We’ve been up since the middle of the night trying to decide what to do about it._

_I can imagine. Is everything alright?_

_I don’t think so. It was even harder to snap him out of it this time. I felt a distinctly… dark presence._

“You know, as much as I don’t want to talk about this now, I don’t especially love being left out of this conversation either,” said Ben, cutting in. He was seated at the kitchen table with his head propped up on his arm, watching Rey stare off into space as she talked about him behind his back while standing right in front of him. He took a sip of his caf, impatiently tapping his foot at her.

Rey patted Ben comfortingly on the hand, then proceeded to talk about him behind his back some more. _Sorry, Ben’s exhausted_. _We should talk about this all together later,_ she said, pausing. _But what were the kids saying about us?_

_They wondered if the two of you might be having a fight. I suggested you simply had more urgent business than school matters. This morning, though, I may have inadvertently shifted the conversation to, let’s say, potentially insulting territory, when I referred to the three of you as ‘the Solos’._

Ben took another particularly loud sip of caf. Rey looked at him and said, “Sorry, just wait a second,” before continuing her psychic dialog with Simeon.

 _So, where was the insult, exactly? What do you mean?_ she asked.

_Fern pointed out that the two of you weren’t actually married, and nearly referred to your son as a bastard before stopping himself._

_Ouch. They actually care about that?_

_It would seem that particular cultural taboo didn’t escape their attention during their upbringing on Lothal._

_Super. Now I should probably go. Ben’s getting really impatient._

_Of course. We’ll continue this later. Good day, my lady._

_Yeah, bye._

Rey refilled their cups of caf as she brought her attention back to their kitchen.

“Well?” Ben asked.

“So, apparently there’s concern that because we’re not married, I can’t be a Solo and also our son is a bastard. Also we’re fighting—probably about how we’re not married and our son is a bastard, but that last bit is pure speculation on my part.”

Ben’s eyebrows popped up, his arm frozen where he held his cup of caf to his lips, having stopped mid-sip. He set his cup on the table a little too aggressively, spilling some caf, and swallowed. “We’ve only been gone a day and a half! What the hell??”

 _“_ Hey, _I’ve_ only been gone a few _hours_. Anyway, I think we should collect Ren and head over there pretty soon. We should talk to them before their gossip completely undermines whatever respect our students have for us.”

Ben grumbled. “Alright, let me finish my caf and get a shirt on. Ren’s playing in the forest, can you get him?”

“Of course. Wear the new tunic I finished making the other day—you’ll look smart in it as you berate the students about their narrow view of family.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then stepped out the front door to collect their bastard child.

**———**

Malfi stepped quietly up to Temiri’s cottage. She knew he was likely still immersed in the construction of his lightsaber, and didn’t want to risk disturbing him. However, she had never been as irritated with her peers as she was this morning, and needed to find someone to vent to about it. She approached the door of the cottage as inconspicuously as she could, telling herself she would just peek in and leave if Temiri was busy. She edged forward silently toward the cottage.

“I know you’re out there, Malfi. Just come in.”

Malfi’s shoulders sank, but she stuck her head through the canvas curtain that functioned as a front door. “Sorry, Tem.”

Temiri was seated at his table, lightsaber pieces and tools laid out in front of him. He smiled kindly at her. “I could sense you,” he said.

Malfi looked at the lightsaber components with open curiosity. “I hope I’m not bugging you.”

“Not at all, kiddo. What’s up?”

“How’s your lightsaber coming?”

“I’m almost finished! I just have a few final touches to make, then I can secure the emitter shroud and be done.”

Malfi grinned ear to ear at this news. “That’s awesome! I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, kid. But that’s not why you’re here, is it?” It wasn’t really a question.

Her grin evaporated. “Well, that’s not the _only_ reason I’m here…”

“What happened?”

“Oh, it’s just… the others were being jerks.”

Temiri frowned. “How so?”

“Everyone started, just, making up all this garbage about why Ben and Rey weren’t there this morning. Then Fern made this big deal about how they shouldn’t be called ‘the Solo family’, ‘cause they’re not married, and then he… he almost called Ren a… a…”

“What? A bastard?”

“Temiri!” she shouted.

“What?? It’s a technical term, I think! A bastard is what you are when your parents aren’t married.”

“Well who cares if they’re married or not?! Ren had nothing to do with that! It’s not his fault!” She was practically beside herself with defensiveness on Ren’s behalf.

“Malfi, I’m not on their side here—I’m not saying it’s okay to make fun of him, or that there’s anything wrong with him.” He sighed. Pushing out with the Force, the chair opposite him at the table moved backwards, away from the table. “Come on, have a seat.”

Malfi sat down tentatively, ready to listen to her older and wiser friend.

He leaned forward onto his elbows, looking right at her. “I’m not on their side. I’m merely pointing out that ‘bastard’ is just a label for someone whose parents weren’t married. I don’t know that Fern was trying to be insulting when he said it—or _almost_ said it, at any rate.”

Malfi didn’t look satisfied with this explanation, and was searching for a good counter argument. “I know, but… it’s… Well, he… he just said it like such a jerk!” Counter arguments weren’t her strong suit.

“Well, for sure, it’s a word with a lot of baggage. There’s something of an expectation that being a bastard somehow makes you less important than everyone else. He’s your friend—I get why it upsets you.”

“It _doesn’t_ make him less!” she said, practically thumping her fist on the table.

“I know, kiddo, I know. I’m sorry it happened. Hell, at least he _has_ parents! Good ones, even. The rest of us would be so lucky just to _know_ our parents…”

Malfi nodded sadly. “Our teachers are doing their best, though.”

“I know they are. And I _know_ we’re pretty lucky, all things considered. There were a lot of orphans that had to settle for getting adopted by whatever random person would take them in. We at least got to choose to come here and learn to be Jedi—or, _Ronin_ , or whatever the hell dumbass thing Ben insists on calling us. Who knows where else we might have ended up.”

Malfi was silent for a moment, before quietly asking, “Did you get to say goodbye to your parents?”

Temiri’s jaw got tight, and he looked away. “Yes, sort of.”

Malfi was hesitant. She was _never_ hesitant with him—everything she’d ever said to Temiri, she had always said with confidence. Confidence, either that what she was saying was right, or that even if it wasn’t, that he would love and respect her anyway. Talking to Temiri had always been extraordinarily easy, but she now found her confidence stripped away. “What… what happened to them?”

Temiri took a moment to answer. “Just my father. My mother died when I was… pretty small. My father was a drunk who gave me up to the First Order before signing up to be a stormtrooper.” His hands had balled themselves into tight fists. “He actually _volunteered._ Son of a bitch was glad to be rid of me and start a new life for himself.”

“Is he… dead?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Not really. Not anymore. When they told me they couldn’t find him, that I could stay here and train in the Force instead, that was it. I said goodbye and washed my hands of him.”

Malfi frowned sadly. “I’m sorry, Temiri.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. My dad was an asshole, constantly telling me how worthless I was. For a long time, he had me believing that I _was_ worthless… I was _constantly_ trying to win his approval. By the time I was old enough that I could tell I was actually _special_ , well… that’s when he got… abusive. When it became clear that the First Order was going to take me, he didn’t put up a fight—he offered me to them on a platter.”

“Oh, Temiri…” said Malfi, sadly. “That sounds awful. Did you have anyone else? Someone you could talk to?” 

Temiri scoffed loudly. “No. No I didn’t.”

 _“No one_ else, really? There wasn’t _anyone_ else on Lothal who looked out for you?”

“No one else gave two shits about me, they just thought I was weird,” he said, with a pronounced shrug. “Malfi, not everyone is like you. Most people are just in it for themselves. They do whatever they can to scrape their way ahead. You’re… unique.”

“But no, I’m not! There are _lots_ of good people! All the people _here_ love you and care about you!”

Temiri’s eyes dropped to the ground. He anxiously toed the leg of the table. “Yeah, I know…”

She looked askance at him. “You don’t sound convinced,” she said, nervously kicking him under the table.

“Malfi, you’re… very _innocent._ Naïve, maybe. It can sometimes be dangerous to… _trust_ people too much.” Malfi looked like she was going to argue, but Temiri wouldn’t let her, stilling her interjection with a raised hand. “My _own father_ cast me to the wolves to save his own skin. The only surprising thing about it was that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It’s important that you’re in a position to take care of _yourself.”_

Malfi sank into her chair, depressed. “That’s awful… your dad sounds like he was pretty selfish.”

“Selfish? Yes, he was. He was awful. But then again,” he said, shrugging, “maybe I was also a terrible son…”

“What? No way, I don’t believe that for a second,” said Malfi. “Why would you even say such a thing?”

Temiri shrugged again. Malfi waited for him to say something more about it, but he never did. He just changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s like I said… now, instead of wasting away on Lothal, breaking my back for a dad who didn’t care about me, I get to hone my Force ability. We’re lucky to be here. My life is better than I’d ever dreamed it could be,” he said, relaxing his fists as he looked over his saber components. “But what about you? What about _your_ parents?”

Malfi shook her head. She had mixed feelings about changing the subject, but decided not to push him if he didn’t want to talk about it. It had taken five years for him to say _this_ much about his past. It was her turn. “I was five when it happened. I remember them, but I don’t remember what _happened_ to them. I don’t know if we said goodbye, or if they were killed, or what. I just remember living on a farm one day, and being here the next. My mom had the prettiest curly red hair…”

“Huh…” he nodded his head, listening. “Well! It’s probably just as well. We may have an unorthodox… _situation_ here. _Family_ , I guess… by traditional standards, anyway. But it’s okay. It’s good.”

Malfi smiled sweetly at him, then gave an affirmative nod.

“And besides,” he shrugged, “at least they’re not drunk assholes.”

Malfi chuckled in spite of the kidding-not-kidding nature of his final remark. _“And,”_ she added, lightening the mood even further, “Ben’s hair might not be red, but it’s still pretty dashing.”

“Oh, _for sure,”_ teased Temiri, collapsing back into his chair and fanning himself in a pretend swoon. Then, turning back toward the project strewn out on his table, he pivoted back to the work at hand. Jutting his chin toward the mess of disconnected parts, he casually changed the subject. “Wanna help me finish this off?” he offered, eyebrows raised.

Malfi’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Can I?? But is that okay? I mean, isn’t lightsaber construction supposed to be sort of… private?”

“Malfi, you can _hear_ it. I don’t think it minds if you help a little.”

**———**

Finn pulled his speeder up to the edge of the concourse and climbed out. Finnie hopped out of the passenger seat, followed by Poe, awkwardly removing himself from the cramped back seat.

It had been a long time since Poe had been to the school. There were fewer tents set up outside than he remembered, and it looked like some things had been moved around. “Is that a new roof on the… the _thing_ over there?” he asked, gesticulating towards the “thing” he couldn’t remember the name of as they walked closer.

“On the biomass generator?” answered Finn. “Yeah, the whole outdoor kitchen area needed new roofing after last winter’s big storm. I helped install it.”

“Good of you to have done that,” Poe commented, nodding. “I was probably… on a mission or something.”

“You were busy, don’t worry about it,” replied Finn. He couldn’t actually recall what Poe had been up to at the time—probably warming a bar stool in the cantina.

As they got closer to the main area of the school, Finnie was able to recognize some of the kids. “That’s Shiroto and Prana over there, I think. Do you see anyone else?”

Finn, squinted as he surveyed the area. “Where are the adults?”

No one answered, they just kept walking. The closer they got to Simeon’s cottage, the closer Poe got to Finn and Finnie. He felt nervous, but couldn’t place why, and he stayed just a few paces behind them.

“Finnie!” shouted a voice from the forest, which Finnie recognized immediately as Malfi’s. The three visitors spotted Malfi traipsing out of the forest and rushing out to greet them. Temiri walked out behind her.

“Hi, Malfi!” yelled Finnie, waving to her. Their attention drawn, Prana and Shiroto glanced at Finnie, who offered a small wave. They nodded their acknowledgment of her, then got back to what they were doing.

As the friends drew closer to one another, they could talk without having to shout. “Temiri just finished his lightsaber! Wanna see it?”

Though Finnie’s interest was piqued at the mention of Temiri’s new weapon, Malfi was nonetheless surprised that Finnie wasn’t more openly excited about it—Finnie loved weapons. Her modest reaction was underwhelming.

Finnie looked Temiri over as he walked toward them. “Yeah, I _would_ like to see it, but, uh,” she glanced at her father, “but first, we need to talk to Rey. Is she here?”

“We need some adult help,” explained Finn. “Where is everybody?”

“Umm, I’m not sure. It was just Mister Simeon here this morning, but then I left to see Temiri. Shiroto? Do you know?”

“He’s been in his cabin since you left. He’s probably still there. Didn’t notice him leave.”

“Yes, I’m here,” called Simeon, pushing aside his curtain-door. “Please forgive the lateness of my greeting.” He took several steps forward. “Captain Dameron, it’s a pleasure to see you. It’s been too long.” He extended his hand out for Poe to shake.

“I know I haven’t been around in a while, Simeon, but please, you gotta call me Poe,” he said, smiling warmly as he accepted Simeon’s hand.

“Certainly… Poe.” 

Finn knew it probably caused Simeon physical pain not to have used an honorific of some sort. He’d have to give his most exalted Captain Dameron a hard time later.

Finn inhaled deeply. “We need Rey. Desperately. She here?”

“The Solos will be here shortly. There is much to discuss—it’s good you’ve come.”

Finn and Poe perked up a little—they had expected to be welcomed, but didn’t anticipate they’d have been actively sought out. The hairs on the back of Finnie’s neck stood taller.

“What’s going on, Mister Simeon?” asked Malfi.

“Lord Solo will explain everything. Please go find the others and bring them here,” he said to her. “Temiri, I see you have completed your lightsaber. This is excellent timing. I’m afraid that events are unfolding that are likely to leave us somewhat understaffed in the days to come.

“What do you mean, Simeon?”

“I’m not entirely sure, son. Maybe just a bad dream. Maybe something more.”


	5. Breakdown

**———Chapter 5: Breakdown———**

The morning had given way to the afternoon, and the bright midday sun warmed the grounds of the school. Students were milling around in the central area outside Simeon’s cottage, aware that Ben and Rey were on their way with news to share. To pass the time while they waited, they had been practicing their levitation skills as they tidied up the kitchen area.

“They’re arriving. Everyone, please sit,” said Simeon, gesturing to the common area as the Solos approached from the northwest. The students took their seats, cross-legged on the ground. Finn and Poe took seats at a nearby table on the opposite end of the area from where Simeon was, and Finnie stuck close to Finn.

“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Rey said as they walked up. She surveyed the assembled gathering, seeing that everyone was there. “Well, it looks like Simeon has you all waiting with bated breath. That’s, uh… convenient,” said Rey.

Ben released Ren’s hand and pointed for him to take a seat with the others. “You have questions, and so—we have some things we need to explain to you all,” he said, remaining standing as Rey and Simeon took seats at the table just behind him.

“What’s going on, Ben?” asked Shiroto.

“Several things. Let me start with… some questions.” He studied their faces, organizing his thoughts. It was important that he get this right. The students watched him expectantly as he looked them over.

“How would you describe us? What we are?”

“Do you mean, like, you three? Or the school as a whole?” asked Shiroto.

Ben made circular gestures with his hands. “All of us sitting here,” he said.

“So… the school,” declared Prana, flatly.

“So we’re a school. What makes us a school?” Ben was trying his hardest to adhere to the best practices of pedagogy, those he had studied and seen modeled so effectively by Simeon in the last five years. It was difficult; students don’t always go where you want them to go, and it can take longer to get to the point. But in the end, they learn it better.

“Well, we’re here to learn stuff from you,” clarified Prana. “You teach us stuff, like how to feel the Force and to make use of it. How to take care of ourselves… and stuff like history.”

“I dunno, when you say ‘school’,” Geddy responded, “I imagine more, just, the _place_. Like, the grounds and the cottages and stuff. He asked us what we are, and I think we’re more than just a school.”

“I agree,” added Shiroto. “We’re not just here to learn, we also take care of each other. We’re a kind of family too.”

“Alright,” said Ben, “So what makes us a family?”

“We love and care for one another. We look out for one another,” supplied Malfi, glancing adoringly at Temiri, who smiled modestly, looking down with embarrassment.

The other students began to shift in their seats on the floor as they considered this line of questioning. Shiroto practically raised his hand before speaking. “Right. We would do anything to help one another.”

“We learn from each other,” said Prana.

“And we push each other to be better,” added Geddy.

“Yeah, like when Prana helped me focus to float that rock,” said Fern.

Geddy punched his little brother playfully in the arm. “Yes, because this family holds its members to the highest standards, and rock-floating is the epitome of achievement,” he added sarcastically.

“And let us not forget how he repaid the kindness by telling me I had food in my teeth,” Prana said, building on the joke. The others chuckled mildly. A few other sarcastic remarks were given in good humor, but by and large, Ben could tell they were taking the discussion seriously. This was followed by a few seconds during which the students just nodded, murmuring their general assent with everything that had been said. They’d exhausted their jokes, and weren’t able to come up with much more to add that wasn’t just restating what had already been brought up.

“Okay, so we’re a family,” said Ben, continuing his probing. “And what about your parents?”

There was a brief moment of calm as the students considered what this question had to do with the school. “Well, they’re our family, too, but they’re not around anymore, so I guess we have a new family now,” said Fern.

“Does that mean your parents don’t matter anymore?”

Fern was slightly taken aback by Ben’s question, but he answered it without missing a beat. “No, they do. I’ll never forget them, but I will live my life fighting for a world where kids don’t have to watch their parents die right in front of them.” The other students nodded.

“A world where everyone has what they need to live,” said Temiri.

“So even though they’re gone, they still affect you and how you view the world. They’re still a part of you,” observed Ben.

“Right,” said Shiroto. “My parents are long dead, but I still carry their memory with me."

“And what about this _new_ family? How are we different?”

“We’re not related by blood,” said Fern. “Well, me and Geddy are, but—”

“—‘Geddy and _I_ are’,” interrupted Simeon. The others looked at him. “It’s ‘Geddy and _I_ are brothers’, because you see, ‘me’ is for a direct object, and in this case…” Simeon glanced at Rey and Ben, who were watching him blankly. “Forgive me, my lord. Let’s discuss the grammatical conventions of Basic another day. Please continue with your lesson.”

“This is a lesson?” asked Geddy, confused.

“Of course it is,” said Malfi.

“But this is all stuff we already knew,” he countered. “We’re just describing ourselves. I don’t get what I’m supposed to learn from this.”

Malfi was undeterred. “He’s trying to teach us about what it means to be a family. That it doesn’t matter whether you’re alive or you’re dead, here or somewhere else, or related by blood. Or _married,”_ she added, somewhat accusatorily, casting a small glare in Fern’s direction. “What matters is how we feel about one another; how far we are willing to go to help one another.”

Fern was looking down at his hands. He glanced at Ren, then back to Ben and Rey. “I’m sorry about what I implied earlier. It was stupid.”

“It’s alright, Fern,” said Ben. “Different cultures have a lot of different rules—that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Cultural rules can help people make sense of their surroundings, and draw inferences about how people feel. They can help to establish a group identity, and a shared understanding of values. Where you encounter trouble is when those general rules become _expectations_ that, should you fail to adhere to them, place you in an unfair position. Words like ‘bastard’ can have that effect.”

A few pairs of eyes darted inconspicuously to Ren, but Ren didn’t flinch. He’d never heard the word ‘bastard’ before now. During these types of lessons, Ren usually just listened and considered what his peers were saying without giving voice to his own ideas. Today was no exception.

Ben continued, “Words like ‘husband’ and ‘wife’, though not technically accurate, are cultural constructs that would help people better understand the nature of my relationship to Rey. We don’t use those words with each other because… well, they’re too _small.”_

The visitors sat quietly, watching. Poe, for his part, was completely engrossed in what he was seeing and hearing. He had never seen Ben teach before, and though he found his manner unfamiliar, he was amazed at how well it suited him. That his friends thought it important for him to be here for this lesson was puzzling to him, but an honor as well. Poe was privy to the knowledge of what the man who had once called himself Kylo Ren had become. His attention did not falter as Ben continued his lesson.

“Rey and I are bonded by the Force. The Force, as you know, is eternal. It is everything. That the Force chose the two of us, out of all the individuals in the universe, to join together, is so much bigger, so much more significant, that legal contracts like marriage simply pale in comparison to that.” 

He sat down at the table in between Rey and Simeon, and issued a long sigh. With a dismissive shake of his head, he carried on. “Words like ‘wife’ just _totally fail_ to capture what Rey is to me, to the point that it feels insulting to even call her that. Frankly, next to the Force, legal contracts are just fucking stupid.”

The students had been mesmerized by Ben’s lecture, but his sudden use of foul language had shaken them out of their trance. They glanced amusedly at one another, adjusting their legs as they shifted into more comfortable positions. They all knew he had a dirty mouth, but he usually kept it in check when he thought kids might be listening.

Ben looked sheepishly over at Rey, then back to the kids. “Sorry, I forgot where I was for a second there.”

In a gesture of forgiveness, Rey patted him lightly on the knee. It was her turn to contribute something to the instruction. “I choose to call myself ‘Solo’ not because of some desperation to be like other families,” she said, “but out of respect for his parents, whom I loved dearly—and who are a part of me, in spite of the fact that we weren’t related by blood. I didn’t have a family name before I chose to be a ‘Solo’, and am honored to take that name.” 

“The point is,” said Ben, “we are a family because we choose to be. Not because of who our parents were, how we came to all end up in the same place, or because the law says we are. We choose it,” said Ben, with finality. 

Then suddenly, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And I don’t particularly give a damn about other people’s rules about how I or my family are supposed to be. Not anymore.”

There was a protracted silence as everyone took some time to process all that they’d heard. Rey could feel the confidence and peace in the children as they sat attentively before her. 

“Are we clear?” Ben asked. The students all nodded their heads. 

“Shall we move on to other matters, then?” asked Rey. The students perked up, ready. Finn had only vaguely known that something was amiss lately. To Poe, this was all news.

Ben took a cleansing breath, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “Now to discuss why I haven’t been around much lately.”

The curiosity among the students was palpable. Simeon observed patiently, watching his friend to see how he delivered the news, and watching the students to see their reactions to it.

“For the past two nights, I’ve been having… dreams,” said Ben.

“What kind of dreams?” asked Shirtoto.

“Strange ones. Disturbing. I call them ‘dreams’, but that doesn’t really feel accurate. In them, a voice, my grandfather, is begging me for help.”

“Help with what?”

“Help with… I’m not sure. He says his soul is dying, and I need to find him in order to help him.”

“But he’s… well, _dead_ _,_ right?” asked Fern, somewhat hesitantly. “How are you supposed to help someone who isn’t actually around to help?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. I’ve been spending the last two days trying to figure out where in the galaxy I could go that might make it easier to make direct contact with him. He said, ‘follow your blood’, so I’ve been researching my family lineage. I figured I’d pick a planet my family has ties to, and see where that leads.”

“Like where?” asked Prana.

“I’m going to start on Naboo. My grandmother is from there.”

“We were just there,” said Temiri. “There was creepy vandalism scattered around the capital.”

“Yes, I thought I would investigate that at the same time, if I’m able.”

“Can I come?? My lightsaber is finished, I’m ready!” interjected Temiri eagerly.

The other students turned excitedly toward Temiri. They were all anxious to see his newly constructed saber.

“In fact, yes, I could use your help. I may need an extra set of hands on my trip. You’ve proven yourself capable. Think of this as… a test.”

Temiri beamed, though he tried to hide it, and Malfi smiled brightly at him. The other students looked on with that combination of envy, jealousy, and pride one feels when one of their own rises above the rest.

Temiri straightened his back, swallowing, to regain his composure. “Thank you, Ben. When are we leaving?”

“Maybe tomorrow. These dreams are… frightening, and not in a normal nightmare sort of way. I feel a genuine threat from them. It’s possible this threat goes beyond just my grandfather’s soul. Others could be at risk. Perhaps even… something worse. The last two nights, Rey has had to enter my mind to pull me out of these dreams, and I don’t know what would have happened to me if she hadn’t. I haven’t been able to sleep very well…”

Ben sighed, rubbing his face with both of his hands. With this gesture, he seemed to be letting go of the façade of composure he’d been holding together since they arrived. The students looked him over, and they could finally see just how exhausted he looked. He was doing alright for now, but they could easily imagine the mental toll that even a couple more nights of this would take on him.

“I can’t avoid sleep, and I don’t want to succumb to unknown threats if I do,” he continued. “Last night, or, more accurately, this morning, Rey and I discussed a way she might be able to protect me, but we have to test it. If successful, we should leave without further delay. My grandfather insists there isn’t much time.”

Solemn reflection settled over the group as they mulled over everything they’d heard. The conversation was finally drawing to a close. Finn looked around, studying the faces of his friends, his daughter, and the students on the floor before him, and wondered where he fit in in all of this. He must be there for a reason.

“How can I help?” he asked, breaking the silence. All eyes turned to him.

Rey smiled. “Would the three of you stay here with us until Ben gets back? Hopefully just for a couple of days, or at least until we know I can manage being a parent and a teacher at the same time that I’m protecting him from here. I’d really appreciate it.”

At those words, there was an audible shudder. It was Ren. He hadn’t made a sound this whole time, and the others had nearly forgotten he was there. He’d been so quiet, so patient, as he listened attentively to all that had been unspooled before him.

“You’re not going, too?” asked Malfi.

“No,” she answered, resolutely. “But my attention will be… divided.”

“Okay, stay here, got it,” said Finn. “I know Finnie and I can manage that. Poe?” Finn asked, in a manner that made it less of a question and more of an invitation.

Poe shifted in his seat, adjusting to the attention being on him. “Sure, why not. I’m sure my C.O. would see her way to giving me some time off, so, yeah, I can hang out here for a while.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Simeon. “Students, I’ll need a few of you to arrange accommodations for our guests. Those of you not engaged in that effort are expected to resume your academic studies for now. Please get to it.”

The crowd of students looked at Ben and Rey to make sure things were, in fact, settled, and that there was nothing left to discuss. With a nod from each of them, the students dispersed. Temiri headed off into the woods to repack his bags for his impending departure, and the other students left to follow Simeon’s directives. Finn led Finnie over to talk to Rey, and Ben and Simeon stepped inside his cottage to discuss logistics. Poe wandered off to explore the school, trying not to look as out of place as he felt.

After the dust had settled, everything at the school appeared to be basically back to normal, except that Ren Solo still sat, spellbound, in the middle of the concourse.


	6. Sleepwalking

**———Chapter 6: Sleepwalking———**

That night, after everyone and everything had been put to bed, Ben and Rey sat alone together at their private dining table overlooking the lake. This would be their last night together under the same roof for the foreseeable future, so they were determined to spend at least a little of that time just being in one another’s presence.

“I’m going to miss our evenings together,” lamented Rey, taking a sip of the Naboo wine Simeon had brought back for them from his recent trip.

With a doleful sigh, Ben pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. The placid lake glittered peacefully under the dusky night sky, the trill of birdsong being slowly replaced for the day with the intermittent buzzing of the evening insects. This was a calm he had come to cherish. He wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of giving it up.

“What did Finn want to talk to you about?” asked Ben.

“Girl trouble,” Rey grinned.

Ben arched an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“Oh, not like that. He just found himself a bit overwhelmed by raising a daughter today. Nothing major.”

Ben raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Is that so? Well, sounds pretty major to _me.”_ Rey gave a small chuckle. “It sounds like I’m kidding, but really, I think you underestimate how much Finn really needed you for that. If you weren’t in his life, who would he have gone to?” he said, taking a swig of his own wine while she considered what he’d said. He let it swirl around his palate for a few seconds before choking it down with look of mild disgust. “This wine is fucking terrible,” he said.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” she said. “You just have very spoiled tastes. If you had grown up on Jakku, drinking fermented Hutt bile, you’d have some perspective.”

Ben hummed in amusement. She had an unbelievable talent when it came to helping him see how everything in life was better than it first appeared. This is what she gave him, and why he needed her so badly. He looked across the table at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with pleasure at the sight of her.

She smiled back at him, reaching across the table to cover his hand in hers. As if reading his thoughts, she said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you either. Let’s just hope you and Temiri can get to the bottom of this quickly.”

“Yes,” he agreed, taking a more conservative pull from his wine glass than he had previously. He tried to focus on the less odious flavors this time around. “Ren was very upset that he’d be staying behind. Did he say anything about that to you?”

“No, but you’re right. I felt the disappointment almost immediately. It bordered on _rejection_ _.”_ Rey looked away, frowning sadly. “It broke my heart to see it.”

“He didn’t say anything to me either, but he carried the thought around the whole rest of the day. He barely spoke to anyone.”

“Do you think he could tell we noticed? How upset he was? We were both so tied up with other people that we couldn’t get to him right away, and once I finally had the time, he looked like he didn’t want to talk about it,” she said.

“I’ll try to have a word with him tomorrow, before I leave. _If_ I leave…”

“Yes, _‘if’_ _…”_ said Rey, sighing. She met his eyes again, then asked the question she’d been dreading all night. “So is it time, then?”

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I am. Though I can’t tell if I want this to succeed or if I want it to fail. If it succeeds, you’ll leave. If it fails…”

“Then we’re back to square one, with no other ideas in mind, going a little bit crazier with each sleepless night.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, frustratedly. “Where do you want me?”

“Let’s try to simulate what it will be like after I’m gone. Why don’t you wait out here until I’m asleep.”

“Okay,” she conceded, with an aggrieved sigh. 

Ben jerked his wine glass to the side, expelling the rest of the spirit into the grass. Then the two of them rose from the table and embraced. Rey wrapped her arms around Ben’s waist and buried the side of her face in his chest. With one arm, he held her closely around her mid-back, his other hand caressing her hair and face. He kissed the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered to her.

“I love you too. I guess I hope this works, but you better hurry your ass back here as quickly as you can,” she said, very authoritatively.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They pulled apart, but he clung to her for as long as he could before her fingers slipped out of his grasp as he stepped through the threshold of their home. He entered their bedroom and hurried through his bedtime rituals. Stripping off the last of his clothing, he slipped under the blankets of their bed and tried to imagine he was light-years from home.

 _I’m in bed now,_ he said to her silently.

 _Okay, here goes…_  

A moment or two passed. The quality of the atmosphere seemed to change around him. He glanced around anxiously, spotting her in the corner opposite the bed, to the left of the door to the kitchen. She was seated in her chair outside, though the chair itself remained invisible to his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to go to sleep with me watching you?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Looking her over, the love of his life, the one person in the galaxy who truly knew him, inside and out, only one response came to mind:

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to rest without you.”

She knew exactly how he felt. “Alright then. I guess I’ll just be over here.”

He nodded. With a twitch of his fingers, the lantern on his nightstand went out, and he shut his eyes. He lay on his back in the dark, trying to remember whatever he normally did to help him fall asleep. His legs shifted restlessly, and he rolled onto his side, away from her. He concentrated on his breathing.

A few minutes passed. Exhausted as he was, he didn’t think this should be taking so long. _Maybe if I try meditating…_ he thought.

 _I think your problem is that you’re_ imitating _sleep. Sleep doesn’t happen because you’re sitting there thinking about sleeping. Your mind should be drifting off onto other things, and before you know it, you’re dreaming._

 _Could you hear my thoughts?_ He asked, rolling back over the other way to face her. _I wasn’t trying to project them…_

_You didn’t have to, I just know you. I can hear you tossing and turning in the bed and can just predict what must be going through your mind. Just relax._

_Do you think you could… come closer? It might help if I could feel you._

He guessed she must have nodded, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. He could only hear the gentle swish of clothing as she rose from her seat and made her way over to him.

She couldn’t actually see him in the darkness either, but she had reached out with the Force and mapped out his position in the room. She took a seat on the floor next to his side of the bed, and rested her head on the mattress near one of his hands. Her lips brushed against his knuckles, and just that brief touch alone helped to release some of the tension he had been unable to let go of before. She laid her hand on his forearm and lightly kissed his fingers, one after another. His breath grew more even, and after a time, she could tell from his breathing that he was, in fact, asleep.

 _And now for the next bit,_ she thought to herself. Gently, as smoothly as one slips into bed next to an already sleeping partner, she eased into his mind. Careful to remain on the outskirts of his dreamscape, she loitered around in his subconscious, waiting for something to happen.

Even when you can’t remember it, your mind wanders in your sleep. The deeper we fall into slumber, the more concrete those thoughts become. Ideas coalesce into pictures, and feelings translate into language. When you get to the part of your sleep that we later remember as dreams, you are yourself an image in that dreamscape. It is this dreamscape that Rey studied with interest as it evolved from a formless swirl of abstract thoughts into something she could interact with.

As the environment took form, she felt her stomach drop in fear and confusion. She became disoriented, unable to discern reality from dreams. It felt like falling in every direction at once. It was too real to be imagination—this couldn’t possibly be a dream. She was on Dendrokaan, at the school. But where was everyone else? Had their experiment succeeded? Had Ben already left on his trip? Why was she alone here?

She agonized in her confusion, trying to suss out what in her memories was real and what wasn’t—what could have happened to her memories between Ben going to sleep and him leaving the planet? She found relief suddenly, pulled from her tangle of confused reality as something impossible appeared: another Rey. _This is the dream, then_ _,_ she said to herself. _Ben is dreaming of here, of home. Of me…_

Rey spied on her dream double, watched as she laughed and twirled her saberstaff in the courtyard in front of Simeon’s house. Rey, the real Rey, squinted through the swirling edge of the dream, waiting for more of it to take shape. She was looking for Ben.

Her dream-self advanced aggressively upon an unseen foe, and eventually, Rey could hear a snapping noise she recognized immediately, though she hadn’t heard it in years. Her weapon collided with another, and eventually, Rey could make out that familiar cross-guarded lightsaber.

 _Fascinating…_ Rey thought. _In his dreams, it’s still red…_

Dream-Ben emerged, a darker, more menacing version of the Ben she knew. He and this Rey were engaged in a duel of a sort that she couldn’t quite figure out. It was too fearsome for sparring, but they were enjoying themselves too much for it to be fighting. They fought as if they wanted to kill each other, but their expressions looked about as far from malice as anything possibly could.

 _It’s like… we’re dancing_ _,_ she thought. She actually felt a little jealous.

As the two combatants continued their engagement, dream-Rey had taken the upper hand and was bearing down on Ben. She had him on his back, sabers pressed intently together in front of his face, his legs pinned under her own.

 _Okay, now I_ know _this is a dream. There’s_ no way _I’d be able to pin him like that. He’s twice my body wei—_

—and then they were kissing, the dream-Rey tearing predatorily at his clothes. Lightsabers a distant memory. 

 _Okay, maybe_ now _this is obviously a dream._ She stepped soundlessly up behind the dream-Rey and effortlessly slipped into her skin, relishing for a selfish moment the realness of the kiss she was stealing. As the Ben underneath her greedily pulled at her, attempting to take this even further, the pragmatist in her pulled her body away from him and looked him square in the eyes.

Ben was startled, and gave her a confused and injured look as she pulled away, but after he met her eyes, he froze, and the injury evaporated from his face.

“Rey?”

“Yes, it’s me. Nice dream you were having.”

“Holy shit, that felt real… I mean, it obviously wasn’t real life, but when you’re in it, you don’t notice the difference. You looking me in the eyes was like someone pulling back the curtain on a darkened room. I can finally see this for what it is.”

“You know your saber is still red here? And you’re generally more ominous and grisly.”

“Well, you can never really kill the past, can you…”

“No, you sure can’t. It has a way of leaving its mark on you, no doubt.”

He looked around, surveying things, before turning back to her and adding, somewhat accusatorily, “Couldn’t you have snapped me out of this, like, five or ten minutes from now? Fifteen, maybe?”

“Sorry, sweetie. You know we don’t know how much time we have before things start getting interesting.”

 _“‘Interesting’!”_ he scoffed in mock offense, pulling himself up off the ground and dusting himself off. “As if shit wasn’t getting _‘interesting’_ already…”

She smiled. “So how does this work? Do you just start hearing voices or what?”

“I never remember anything except the blackness and the terror—and the _words_ _,_ obviously. I have no idea if this is even going to work if you’re here,” he shrugged, evaluating their situation. After a moment, he looked at her inquisitively. “What’s it going to do to _your_ mental state to be stalking my dreams while I’m asleep and you’re awake?”

“Good question. Let’s hope not much. Anyway, it’s the lesser of two evils—I get to stay here where people can take care of me if I start losing it, you’re going to be who-knows-where hunting ghosts.”

“Point taken.”

There was a protracted silence as the two of them both considered what they should be doing while they waited for events to unfold around them. “Let’s not overthink this,” she said. “It’s just like going to sleep—we can’t force it. Let’s just wander around and explore this dreamscape for a bit. I bet if we take our minds off of it, eventually something will happen.”

“Fine with me,” said Ben. He extended his elbow in a gentlemanly invitation, and she happily hooked her own arm through his. In real life, they never walked together arm-in-arm. What better time to try it was there but in dreams?

They walked together through the grounds that were simultaneously familiar and alien. Part of Rey couldn’t help herself but to deconstruct what she was seeing as though she were diagnosing a misbehaving starfighter. She noticed that her surroundings were largely out of focus, as if they were drawn on fog, until Ben drew his attention to them—then they quickly became crisp and life-like. When he looked away, they held their form for a time, but as his attention drifted to other things, they again would fade.

The rational part of her knew that this wasn’t the time to experiment, but she was too curious to help herself. She said to him, “Oh, what beautiful birds! Ben, look!”

Ben followed her line of sight off to his left, and there appeared two colorful avians of a variety Rey had never seen before. They stood on long, spindly legs, with graceful wings whose artful feathers sported colors spanning the entire rainbow. Their heads were adorned with vibrant plumes, stretching in a line from brow to the base of their skulls. Slender beaks ended in delicate points, perfectly suited for the soft cooing noises that emanated therefrom. 

“Gorgeous,” he remarked. “I wonder what kind of birds those are?”

“Those are… fluvian swallows,” she said, as convincingly as she could muster. She had totally made that up. Until she’d prompted him to look, there hadn’t been any birds there at all.

“Fluvian swallows, of course,” he nodded, totally convinced that that was indeed what they were. “This must be their mating season.”

_Ah, Ben. Such a know-it-all in his dreams._

She had learned two things from this, apart from the utterly unsurprising fact that dream-Ben could relate anything back to sex. One, that she could influence what took place in his dreams merely by making suggestions, and two, that Ben might have relinquished his “waking” control of this dream. He seemed to have entirely forgotten that this was even a dream at all. The more time they put between now and the last time they had mentioned dreaming versus real life, the more distant this Ben seemed to become.

Ben unhooked his arm from hers and slid it around her waist, pulling her closer as they walked together through the meadow. Their surroundings became blurrier and blurrier. His attention had shifted almost entirely to her.

 _If I look him in the eyes, he might remember that this is only a dream…_ she thought. Resisting the urge to look at him as his fingers became more and more daring was practically masochism.

His other hand moved to her breast, and his lips were on her neck. _Ohhhh boy…_ she thought, torn between whether her first priority should be to preserve the dream-state (dubiously wise, definitely self-serving), or if she should snap him out of it so she didn’t get too distracted from her actual job here.

She was spared the agony of having to decide. His hands and body gradually came to rest where they were, and the edges of their environment, already formless, were gradually sinking into shadow. She pulled away from Ben and looked at him. His face was a void. Expressionless. Empty. 

This was instantly the most terrifying thing Rey had ever seen.

She hadn’t noticed when it had begun—this _sound_ _._ She didn’t remember it as having started all of a sudden, but it didn’t begin quietly either. As if it had always been there, but she was only just noticing it now. A wall of noise. 

And ever-deepening blackness. The dream that had been had vanished, and now there was just this… _vacant shell_ before her. Her partner, her husband, soulmate—whatever word in all the tongues of the galaxy could once have described him, he had become… an empty vessel.

 _Now. You have to do something NOW,_ said a voice inside her head.

So she shook him.

And there were the birds. And the grass. She looked up, and she thought she saw the sky. The noise, gone. It was like how it sounds when you’re listening to a recording of a cymbal being smashed, but played in reverse. An airlock opening, releasing everything inside all at once.

“Is everything okay?”

She looked at him, asking her if everything was okay. She nodded dumbly. Then, frustrated with herself, she shook her head violently. “No! Everything’s not okay! Did you see any of that??”

“Any of what?” he asked.

 _“That!!_ The noise! The black! The impending sense of _doom!_ Did you see any of _that?!”_ she was practically screaming at him.

He blinked. “No, sweetheart, I sure didn’t.” 

He still had an alarmingly distant look in his eyes. “Do you see those birds over there?” she said suddenly, pointing at the ‘aluvial swallows’, or whatever she had called them.

“Of course I do, sweet—wait… what the fuck is a ‘fluvian swallow’? Did you just make that up?”

With an abrupt outpouring of breath, she collapsed into his chest. “Oh, thank goodness…”

He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her shoulders as it all started to come back to him. “What did you see?” he asked her.

“In a minute…” she panted. “First, tell me what _you_ saw.”

“Not much this time. Like before, I saw the dark, and I felt the pressure, but not as intensely. It never really got that bad. I was in control…”

“Did you hear anything?” she asked.

“Yes, I heard…” and he paused, a vacant look in his eyes as he recalled the words.

She looked up at him. “You heard what?” She was on tenterhooks. Did he hear the noise? Had Anakin called out to him? Had any clues emerged whatsoever that would help them make sense of what was happening to them? She held her breath, waiting impatiently for him to recount the words he’d heard whispered to him in the blackness…

“He asked me…” he began, his lips and tongue moved soundlessly, his mouth anxiously testing out the words before uttering them, _“‘Who is that?’”_


	7. Awakenings

**———Chapter 7: Awakenings———**

The chirping of the morning skylarks alerted Ren to the filtered light penetrating the curtain of his bedroom window. With a start, he popped up out of bed. He hadn’t expected to sleep all the way to sunrise.

Throwing his blanket off, he darted out of his room, through the kitchen, and into his parents’ room. From the doorway, he scrutinized the shape of the lump steadily rising and falling under the sheets.

His father lay there, snoring gently, arm hanging limply off the edge of the mattress.

“Dad!” he shouted, running up to him and climbing into bed on top of him. 

Ben woke up, startled, groggy, and a bit bewildered. “Ren?” He looked up at his son perched on top of him, staring expectantly with wide, innocent eyes.

“Are you okay? Where’s mama?”

Ben was still shaking off his disorientation, so it took him a second to remember why that would even be a relevant question to ask. “She isn’t here?” he asked, before suddenly realizing. “Shit!” he blurted, abruptly but carefully sitting up and shifting Ren onto Rey’s side of the bed. He threw back his sheets and climbed out of bed, stumbling, naked, out of the room.

Ren watched anxiously before hopping out of their bed and following close behind.

Ben pushed back the curtain obscuring the front door and spotted Rey, lying prostrate in the grass a few yards from where they had parted ways last night.

“Rey!” Ben went to her and scooped her up, kissing her hands as he brought them to his face. “Rey! Are you alright?!” Ren had joined him in the grass to see to his mother.

Rey opened her eyes and sleepily surveyed the two men in her midst. “My boys…” she said, smiling sweetly. 

Then her eyes popped open in alarm, the spell broken. “Holy shit! I fell asleep!! Ben, are you alright?! Tell me you’re alright!”

“I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine. I slept like the dead.”

“Please don’t say ‘dead’…” she said, raising her hand to his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, laughing and kissing her repeatedly on her forehead. He stood up and gathered her up off the ground. “Come on Ren, let’s put mama to bed. She’s had a long night of taking care of daddy.”

Ren, reassured at seeing both his parents in seemingly good spirits, skipped along beside his father as the three of them returned inside.

**———**

This wasn’t at all how Finnie was used to waking up in the morning. She was cold, it was too bright, and the birds just wouldn’t _stop_. How Malfi could sleep through this, she had absolutely no idea.

Finnie pushed her blankets back and sat up quietly. She stretched and listened for any noises that might mean anyone else was awake. She thought she heard the sound of a kettle boiling, so she pulled a thick, long-sleeve thermal shirt on over her nightshirt and silently crept under the flap of the tent she had shared with Malfi. She glanced around to see who might be awake for her to talk to.

The sound of rustling leaves drew her attention to the edge of the forest, where she spotted Poe, stumbling groggily out of the woods and swiping at his hair.

“Ah, shit! Man, the _spiders_ here! Can’t even take a piss without walking through fifteen different webs…” he muttered to himself.

“Good morning, Poe,” greeted Finnie. 

Poe jumped in surprise before laughing at himself—he’d thought he was the only one up. “Finnie! Hey, good morning. Did you just get up?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she answered with a yawn.

“I know, it’s these fucking _birds_ , am I right? Oh! Sorry, I shouldn’t swear so much…”

“It’s okay Poe, I live on a military base too. I have big-girl ears.”

He chuckled. “I guess you must, huh? Sorry, I’ll try not to be so condescending.”

“Don’t worry about it. Making caf?”

“Yeah, I need the pick-me-up. Do you drink it?”

“Not really, but I’ll join you. I’ll have a small cup, just to warm up.”

Finnie took a seat at a nearby table while Poe poked around in the kitchen area. The water was ready for their caf, but he hadn’t taken it off the burner yet.

“Looking for cups? All the dishes are in that cabinet to the right of the sink. Also, there’s a private biomass generator out behind Simeon’s cottage, so you shouldn’t need to brave the spider webs next time.”

Poe pulled out two cups and then quickly scanned the rest of the contents of the cabinet. “So they piss into generators here? Lovely,” he said, making conversation while he rummaged around a bit more.

“Waste not, want not. What are you looking for?”

“Hydrocarbose, for my caf… do you know where they keep it?”

“I think Rey is the only one who takes her caf that way. They don’t have any here, sorry.”

Poe grumbled in frustration. “Well, _that’s_ changing, and fast. I’ll die without it.”

He poured the caf into each of the cups and returned to the table to sit with Finnie. Finnie accepted the caf politely, wrapping her fingers around the hot metal and taking a long inhale from the aromas floating off the liquid. Poe took a tentative sip.

“Well, at least the caf is decent quality around here. Of course, hydrocarbose would definitely make it better, but I think I could at least survive without it. For a day or so…”

Finnie smiled, and took a small sip from her own cup. The two of them sat quietly for a minute, just listening to the sounds of the planet. Well, listening to the birds, anyway.

She observed the man across from her, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere off in the distance. His hair went every which way. He had at least a few days’ growth on his face, and there were small circles under his eyes. 

“So how are you, Poe?”

He studied her face, trying to ascertain her motive for asking. “Uh, I’m fine. Just, you know, _birds_.” He made a gesture between his ears and their surroundings. “How are _you?”_

“I don’t mean, ‘How are you _this morning?’”_ she clarified.

Poe took a long sip off his caf, watching her with interest. She could feel him evaluating her. She waited, allowing him his time to assess her, thinking and swallowing.

“I’m, uh… I’m getting _better_ , I think. Thanks. Thanks for asking,” he nodded pointedly.

“We’re glad you’re here,” she said. “I don’t just mean about this thing with Ben either, but dad and me, _we’re_ glad. Dad especially.”

Poe nodded some more. “Uh, good. That’s good. I mean, I _want_ you to be glad. _I’m_ glad. Glad to be able to help…“

“You know, Ben’s speech yesterday…” she said. Poe finally stopped his awkward nodding. “What he said about family…” She looked at him intently. “He was right, you know.”

“Uh, yeah! Of course he was! He was right about a lot of things yesterday. He’s a good teacher, they’re lucky to have him here.”

He still didn’t get it. Or maybe he did, but he wouldn’t admit it.

“Other people’s expectations? To hell with them.”

“Right, I know. They have a great family here, to hell with people’s expectations,” he agreed.

“They have a great family, yes. And so do _we.”_ She took a last sip from her cup, then rose up from the table and stood across from him. “It’s my turn to use the generator. I’ll wash our cups when I come back.”

He watched her silently as she rounded the table towards him on her way to the generator. His head turned absently in her direction until she was behind him, at which point he sat still, unmoving, but not unmoved. His unfocused eyes stared out toward the open school promenade, towards the three tents where they had slept last night. The girls, Finn, and himself.

In the distance, well beyond where he could see, the Resistance base was already up and moving, doing their thing, independent and apart from him and the man still sleeping in the tent between here and there. It was ten klicks between the school and the base. How far he’d actually gone, he wasn’t sure.

**———**

Ben and his son arrived at Simeon’s cabin just as he and most of the students were finishing up their breakfasts at the tables out front. Ben greeted them all casually, and Ren took a seat at the table, helping himself to a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a glass of juice. Beyond extending their own casual morning greetings, the students said nothing. But Ben could tell they were dying to.

“Yes, it worked. We’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”

“Lady Rey was able to protect you through your bond long enough for you to get through a night of rest?” asked Simeon.

“Yes. Now it’s her turn to sleep. I won’t leave before she gets here, but it won’t be long after that. Where is Temiri?”

“He and a few other students were desperate to see his new lightsaber in action. They had the courtesy to move far enough away that those of us who preferred to finish our breakfasts in peace were able to do so,” he added, taking a sip of caf.

Ben turned to the students who had stayed behind. “You weren’t anxious to see his lightsaber, too?”

“I just wanted to know what color it was,” said Geddy. “It’s blue.” He plucked a strip of bacon from his plate and bit into it with finality.

“And it will still be blue tomorrow,” added Prana.

“But tomorrow—and this is science _fact,”_ said Fern, “Tomorrow, this bacon will be gone.”

“Three cheers for science!” shouted Geddy, raising his juice glass. The others raised their glasses to join him, and together, they gave it up for science.

“Three cheers for bacon!” shouted Fern, and the ritual was repeated.

Ren giggled as he chewed, and even Simeon seemed amused, though he concealed it behind his caf. Ben smiled crookedly at his students, his _children,_  and took a seat at the table.

**———**

Malfi and Finnie sat next to one another on a large, flat boulder at the base of the hill. The spot was already warm from the rising sun and would give them a nice view of the action as it unfolded before them. Shiroto had challenged Temiri to a sparring match with his new lightsaber, and this place, though it was a bit of a hike to get to, was a pretty good spot for a duel. Malfi was really anxious to see Temiri wield the saber she’d helped construct, and had insisted that Finnie come along.

And Finnie had to admit, she was curious to see what he could do with it.

“I should get bonus points just for having to carry this thing all the way out here,” joked Shiroto. “Vibroblades are ridiculously heavy for what they are.”

“Not all of them,” said Temiri. “Just the ones the military is willing to part with so our school can have a few to use in training.”

“Well, anyway, it’s hardly fair. We haven’t even started, and already my arms are tired from carrying this thing.”

“I think that’s less the fault of the vibroblade and more the fault of your wimpy little girl arms,” teased Temiri.

Finnie flopped backwards on the boulder in resignation. She’d hoped that she’d left the male posturing behind at the base, but apparently it wasn’t that easy to escape.

“I take exception to that, you know!” shouted Malfi.

“Sorry Malfi!” he called back to her. “Sorry—Finnie…” he added, glancing awkwardly in her direction.

“Alright, let’s do this,” said Shiroto, activating his vibroblade. “Ugh, I look forward to the day we can spar saber to saber. Even the _sound_ of this thing is grating…”

“Sorry, Shi. It’s just a matter of time before you get your own. I’ll give you sympathy points, how’s that?” He smirked, and flicked the switch to set his own weapon ablaze.

Finnie sat up, just in time to see the first blows exchanged.

Shiroto and Temiri swung at one another with elegant strikes, the two weapons humming and buzzing as they cut the air. The deep blue of Temiri’s blade was hypnotic.

This was a far cry from the comedy of errors she’d witnessed yesterday morning. Temiri’s footwork was impeccable, his maneuvers effortless. He moved through the air as if he were part of its fluid body. Shiroto was also quite skilled, but—and maybe this was the weapon’s fault—his swordplay wasn’t as clean.

“God, I hate this thing,” complained Shiroto, vexed by his clumsy weapon.

“It’s the poor carpenter that blames his shoddy tools. Don’t make excuses,” countered Temiri.

Shiroto didn’t like to admit it, but it _was_ an excuse. Temiri wasn’t that much older than Shiroto, only a few months separated them. They had started training seriously with weapons at the same time as one another, and physically, there was very little difference between them. Temiri was just a better swordfighter than he was.

Shiroto frowned. If he was going to beat Temiri, he’d need to switch tactics. He centered himself, drawing on feelings he’d learned to manage since coming to the school. Feelings he didn’t love having, but ones that had helped him stay alive as an orphan on Lothal. Drawing on his jealousy, his envy, and his bitterness, he felt his senses sharpen and his strength spike.

Temiri saw a flash of darkness in his opponent’s eyes, and Shiroto’s vibroblade slammed into Temiri’s lightsaber so hard that Temiri’s arms were rattled by the impact.

Temiri momentarily lost his footing from the shock. Not only were his muscles stunned from the force of Shiroto’s attack, but his senses reeled from the Darkness Shiroto was drawing upon in order to tip the scales in his favor. 

Temiri’s eyes narrowed.  _ Two can play at that game, _ he thought.

Finnie was transfixed. She could tell something had changed about the match, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. They had gotten _better_ , certainly, but that wasn’t the whole of it. Something else about the quality of the duel had changed. She looked at Malfi. Finnie wasn’t sure, but thought maybe Malfi sensed it too. She had a crinkle in her brow and a slight downturn on her lips. She was watching as intently as ever, but with a hint of concern. 

“Careful, Tem,” cautioned Malfi in a small whisper.

Temiri had regained some ground on his sparring partner, but that only got him so far. As Shiroto matched his renewed efforts with additional vigor of his own, Temiri was reminded of a running joke he and Shiroto had begun years ago. They'd imagined a hypothetical scenario in which someone drew on the Dark Side to win in a fight, but the person they were battling did the same thing. Each fighter would go darker and darker, trying to outdo the other. They would both lose if they fell so far into the Darkness that they couldn’t come back, but if one party quit early, the other would be the victor. 

They called it ‘Dark Meat Chicken’.

They’d never actually played this game before—it was too absurd an idea to really consider. That Shiroto had decided to try a deliberate dive into Darkness to boost his attack power wasn’t unusual, but when you’re fighting against other Force-sensitives who can do the same thing, you can wind up in just the sort of Dark-Side-arms-race they’d only ever joked about—either one party decides to let the other one win, or everyone blows up.

Temiri made the calculation that Shiroto would balk earlier than necessary, and Temiri didn’t like to lose. He continued to up the ante.

_ He’s not really interested in sparring, in testing his mettle… Your lightsaber was just an excuse… he wants to make you look like a fool… He doesn’t care if he hurts you, he’s only interested in winning…  _

Finnie thought she could hear Malfi’s heart racing. Or was that pounding coming from her own ears? Reflexively, she took Malfi’s hand, and Malfi turned to her, a look of almost paralyzed fear drawn across her young face. They looked back at the two young men, and Finnie’s heart caught in her throat.

_ He’s tired of being second best… but if you were gone, then maybe…  _

Their weapons clashed, again, and again. Every time they did, there was a thunder in Finnie’s ears that made her head hurt. Temiri’s next strike hit low on Shiroto’s vibroblade, and the hilt was severed, coming dangerously close to taking Shiroto’s fingers off. The vibroblade’s current failed, and the dead half of Shiroto’s weapon clattered to the ground. And that’s how a winner should have been decided.

But Temiri didn’t stop. 

With a fierce kick to his chest, Shiroto was sent flying. He panicked as he hit the ground several yards in front of Temiri. He had dropped the hilt of the vibroblade, and now held his arms up in surrender. “I yield!” he shouted.

_ You’re too powerful for him… this is a ruse… he’s beaten, and he knows it… if you relent, he’ll just…   _

Malfi gasped as Temiri drew ever closer. Shiroto glanced at her, a pleading look in his eyes, before turning back to Temiri. “I yield! Tem! I said _I yield!!”_

Temiri hovered over Shiroto, raising his arms in a move to strike. Malfi, horrified, stood up and cried out at the top of her lungs,  “Temiri, _ STOP!!!” _

Finnie stood as well, her arm outstretched toward the two young men as she joined Malfi in screaming for an immediate end to this duel. Her head was swimming; the emotion she was feeling had hit her like a wave.

As though the lights had switched on and banished the ghosts into the shadows, clarity returned to Temiri’s eyes. He stood frozen, the rage and fierceness draining from his face. He extinguished his lightsaber and hooked it to his belt.

Shiroto’s eyes had sealed themselves shut at Temiri’s malevolent approach. Carefully, he peeled one eyelid open and looked up to see Temiri’s hand extended to help Shiroto up off the ground. Shiroto’s fear melted away, and he gratefully accepted Temiri’s hand.

“Sorry, Shi,” said Temiri.

“Holy crap! Let’s never play that again…”

“Yeah, well, you started it,” he said, pulling Shiroto to his feet.

“Thank you for _ending_ it,” Shiroto countered, clapping Temiri on the shoulder.

“Mmm, you’re welcome,” said Temiri, modestly. He glanced over to Malfi and Finnie, both of whom were standing up, watching them anxiously. The kyber crystal at his hip hummed loudly, reminding him who it was that had really stayed his hand.

 


	8. Disaggregation

**———Chapter 8: Disaggregation———**

Simeon had shown Poe into his cottage to let him use the communications equipment that was set up inside, then left to allow Poe a bit of privacy. That had been several minutes ago, but Poe was still struggling with getting started, and was just staring absently at the equipment.

He understood how to use the equipment, of course—he just didn’t know what to _say_. Or rather, he knew what to say, he just didn’t know _how_ to say it. Well actually, he knew how to say it, he just—

He just didn’t want to make this fucking call.

He carded his hand through his hair and flicked a switch on the terminal, opening the channel to the base. He put in the code that would get him through to Admiral Connix’s secure channel, and waited to see if she would answer.

_Five seconds… will I get to leave a message? Am I that lucky?_

“Captain Dameron, it’s nice to hear from you.”

 _Fuck_. “Admiral!” he greeted, too cheerfully. “It’s good to hear from you too! I mean, _I’m… you’re_ hearing from _me_ , and that’s… I need to talk to you.”

“I’m sure you do.”

There was a silence that stretched on just a little longer than was comfortable. She took pity on him. “So, I wasn’t expecting to see your code pop up from such a relatively remote terminal. That’s the school, isn’t it? How are things, Captain?”

Poe cleared his throat. “They’re fine. They’re _great_ , actually. I got rid of my booze, nothing in days. And yeah, I’ve been spending a lot of time at the Jedi school, with the kids there. And with Finn.”

“Yes, he’s another one who’s on a much needed, though somewhat less official, leave right now. You two are made for each other.”

He choked, then covered for it with a mild coughing fit.

“So is this a social call? Did you just want to catch up? I had toast for breakfast this morning, and I’m experimenting with parting my hair on the right…”

“No, sorry Admiral, I’ll get to the point,” he said, with a sigh. “I’d like a few days away from the base. A week or more, maybe. Ben Solo is going on a trip and taking a student with him, and they’d like me to stick around and help manage some of the business they have here while he’s away.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think they have it under control, they just need more adult help while he’s gone. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great place for you to be right now. Take your time. I’ll get your leave sorted out for you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“You can call me Kaydel. At least for this week.”

“Thanks…” It sounded like maybe he was going to finish by calling her that, but he didn’t. “I’ll check in in a week.”

“Take your time, Poe.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

Poe closed the channel, pinched the bridge of his nose, and laid his head down on the console. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he said to nobody.

**———**

It was disorienting, seeing things from this low to the ground. 

_It’s really hard to see… that’s too far away—dark blob. And which way is up?_

He was experimenting. There were so many things happening around him that just didn’t quite make sense. Ren wanted to help, to do his part, but he was barely comprehending what was happening. He hoped this would help him understand better. If he trained harder… got stronger… maybe then…

Its vision was poor—anything further than a few feet away was mostly a blur. It could detect light and decipher basic shapes, but until it was really close to something, it was hard to make out exactly what it was. From in here, Ren couldn’t feel gravity at all—it was only the occasional rays of light breaking through the forest canopy that gave him any indication of where “up” was.

It sat very still. Then, in the distance, off to the right, a bit of motion indicated a point of interest. Suddenly, the foreground became a complete smear as it barreled toward that point: a beetle. 

_I feel… satisfaction? Oh, it was hungry! Now we’re resting. No… moving again. What’s that over there?_

Ren tried to squint, but that of course did nothing. These weren’t his eyes. He had no control here.

_It’s a dark spot… swaying gently. A flower? Too wide… What is it? It must not know either. Coming closer to investigate…_

_That’s me!!_

Ren was so excited to be seeing himself through its eyes that he lost his concentration—for just a moment, he was back in his own body, moving excitedly toward the lizard. Frustrated by having lost his connection due to his own carelessness, he immediately sought to reestablish it.

Terror. Freeze. Don’t move and it might not see. Must survive. Must get away. Can’t escape yet, wait for an opening... 

_…I don’t like this anymore._

Darting away, a blur. Darkness and safety. A hollow log… 

Ren opened his eyes, and gave a relieved sigh.

“Ren? Is that you, sweetie?”

“Mama!!” shouted Ren, climbing to his feet and dashing to hug his mother. He wrapped himself around her legs. “Mama, are you done sleeping?”

“Yes, honey, I am.” Rey crouched down to be at eye-level with her son, giving him a kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Thank you for coming to my rescue this morning. Was that weird?” she asked, trying to act casual.

“You were in the grass!” he shouted happily. 

She laughed, “Yes, I was. I fell asleep out there. I didn’t mean to, but I was pretty tired.”

“Daddy said he had good dreams last night.”

Rey blushed. “Um, that’s great! What did he say, exactly?”

“He said he dreamt of a beautiful bird…”

**———**

Rey left Ren to continue playing in the forest and went to the main area of the school. In the sparring courtyard, Finnie was showing Shiroto some moves with a pike, and some other students were working at computer terminals. Simeon was working with Prana and Fern on what looked like some Control exercises. Poe and Finn were sitting at a table, chatting, drinking caf, and watching the students. She took a seat at the table next to Poe.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said. “How was your night in the tents?”

“Probably better than yours was,” ventured Finn. “You alright?”

“It’s a little weird to sleep through half the day, but I’m basically fine, yes. Why, what did Ben have to say about it?”

“Just that whatever you did worked,” answered Poe. “What _did_ you do?”

“He went to sleep while I stayed awake and hung out in his subconscious, checking out his dreams, making sure nothing bad happened to him.”

Finn and Poe exchanged glances. “What’s it like, spying on someone’s dreams?” asked Poe.

She blushed. “I’m sure you can imagine…” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I got to see Ben how he sees himself though, and that was pretty interesting. And we could talk about conscious things, like what we were doing in real life, but if we avoided it for long enough, he would forget about real life and start behaving like he was part of his dream again. But then it… happened again.”

“Yeah, Ben gave us the short version,” said Finn.

“Oh?” Rey was curious about which bits of what had happened he would choose to relate  to other people. “How did he describe it?”

“Said it wasn’t as severe as before, but he still felt it,” said Finn. 

“Yeah,” agreed Poe. “Said he was able to stay asleep, though. Brush it off like it was more or less a normal dream.”

Rey narrowed her eyes, “And that’s _all_ he said about his dream?”

“We didn’t ask him for any details about what he dreamt about,” said Finn hastily, his palms held up in a defensive gesture, “and he didn’t volunteer.”

“Alright,” Rey laughed, before changing the subject. “The kids seem fine, at least,” Rey sighed, surveying the students. “I don’t know if anyone besides me or Ben noticed it yesterday, but Ren was very upset that he wouldn’t be going too. Have you noticed anything?”

Finn shook his head. “He’s been playing by himself in the forest all day.”

“‘Playing’, was it? When I found him, he was just sitting there. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was meditating.”

Poe laughed, “I always imagined that meditating was pretty much the only thing you guys did here.”

“Well, that’s _part_ of it, yes, but when it comes to Ren, Ben and I have been very loose about training him. He didn’t get to _choose_ this life like the others did—it was sort of thrust on him. We don’t push him to learn too quickly—we just want him to enjoy being a kid…”

“I thought Jedi were _supposed_ to start their training young…?” said Poe.

Rey shook her head. “That was the _Jedi Order_ , yes, but that’s not us.”

“Right,” said Finn, “you’re… Ronin.”

 _“‘Ronin?’”_ blurted Poe, somewhat aghast. “What the fuck is a _Ronin?_ I’ve been on desolate planets telling people not to worry, that Jedi were coming back, and they’re so damn _happy_ about it. I’m supposed to tell them to pray for _Ronins_ , now?”

“‘Ronin’ is already plural, you don’t have to put an ‘s’ on it…” said Rey. Naïvely, Rey had thought she could turn down the volume by trying to be funny. It didn’t go over well. 

“Already plural, is it?” he yelled at her, “You know why I don’t know that? Because until today, I’d never had to talk about _Ronin_ before because it’s a made-up fucking word!”

Rey stared blankly at Poe, shocked at the turn this conversation had taken. Simeon had gone with his students into the forest to continue their exercises there.

Finn felt it too. “Poe, let’s take a walk,” he said, standing up. He rounded the table, giving Rey’s shoulder a squeeze as he passed her, then grabbed Poe under the armpit and lifted him out of his seat. Poe stumbled getting up, but cooperated with his friend. They wandered off in the opposite direction from where Simeon had taken his students.

“Something on your mind, friend?” asked Finn once they were safely out of earshot.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that get to me so badly. Bad timing…”

“Why _did_ that get to you so badly?”

“Nothing, never mind. No reason.”

“Poe, be real with me.” He looked Poe sympathetically in the eyes.

Something in the way Finn looked at him made him feel completely exposed. There was just no hiding from Finn, no point in trying. Poe wasn’t even sure what he was hiding, but whatever it was, Finn would figure it all out anyway. Honestly, Poe welcomed the clarity.

Poe sighed, lacing his hands behind his head as he slowed his pace to a stop. He thought and thought about how to answer. “Man, I’m really not even sure. I can’t explain it. I just…”

“You juuust…?”

“…I just really want there to be Jedi in this world, alright?”

**———**

_“You still haven’t talked to him? You had all morning—what are you waiting for?”_

_“Can’t you just explain it to him? I’m not good at these things…”_

_“Absolutely not. He’s five, Ben, you can’t just leave him here without clearing up with him why. Saying goodbye to everyone as a whole is not enough—he needs to hear it from you, one on one. Please trust me on this.”_

His last conversation with Rey played on repeat inside Ben’s head as he traipsed through the forest looking for his son. Ben knew she was right, and he felt like a coward. In their own youths, they had each experienced the sting of rejection from their parents—at this moment, he felt some empathy for his own father at having been so distant about sending him off to train with Uncle Luke. This shit was _hard._

Now that he was finally ready to face his son before leaving him for the very first time in his entire life, he couldn’t seem to _find_ him anywhere.

“Where the hell are you, kid?” he muttered under his breath. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a five-year-old boy playing in the forest, especially not for someone like him. Detecting Force signatures was Jedi 101.

Sighing, Ben ceased his aimless wandering. He closed his eyes, and pushed out with the Force. In his mind’s eye, the vibrant web of life around him molded itself into a structure he could explore telepathically. He knew his son’s signature intimately—it should stand out like a torch in the night.

There it was. It was right there. But he couldn’t pinpoint its location. It was completely mixed up with the energies of everything else around him, and he was completely surrounded by it.

Ben opened his eyes and spun himself in circles, looking for his son. His signature was _everywhere_. In all Ben’s exploits with Force mapping, he had never encountered a phenomenon like this. That his son was the source of the aberration caused him enormous distress.

 _“Ren?!”_ he called out anxiously. “Ren, where are you??”

The sea of sensation abated, regressing back off in one direction, and Ben heard a small voice in the distance. “Daddy? Are you looking for me? I’m over here!”

Ben ran to where he’d heard the voice, and found Ren crawling out of a hollowed-out tree trunk laying on its side.

“Yes, it’s me,” said Ben, breathing heavily. “What are you doing out here?”

“Guess what? Just now, I could see you before I saw you! I can watch out for you too now! I can help!”

Ben fell to his knees and pulled his son in close. “Ren… Oh Ren, you help me so much already.”

“But I can help you _sleep,_ just like mama! Right now, I saw through your eyes! Why were you so scared?”

Ben shook his head. “I was scared because… because…  I couldn’t find you! And… you know how much I love you, right?”

Ren’s demeanor changed suddenly. In a tiny voice, he asked, “Why is loving me scary?”

 _Don’t fuck this up_ , a voice inside Ben’s head cautioned him. “It’s not, it isn’t scary at all. It’s the best thing ever, really. You and your mother are absolutely everything in the whole world to me. The whole galaxy. You understand that?”

Ren nodded. 

“You can’t ever forget that. No matter what I do, ever, you need to trust that I love you, more than anything.”

“Even mama??”

Ben laughed, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. He rested his forehead against Ren’s. “Well, I think it might be a tie between the two of you.”

“Are you saying all this because you’re leaving now?”

Ben nodded, shivering with the emotion that this small person was stirring in him.

Ren pulled away and looked his father in the eyes. “Well it’s okay now,” said Ren, with an air of absolute confidence. Whatever uncertainty, fear, or rejection Ben had felt from his son yesterday or this morning, he couldn’t find it now. Something about his son had fundamentally changed.

“I know you know I was sad before, but I’m not anymore,” continued Ren, “You want to keep me safe, and I understand that—I want to keep you safe too. Now I can. Now I know I can help you from _here_. I can prove it, even—you’ll see. I’ll be okay to stay here with mama. I can watch out for her, too.”

There was such tenacity, such determination in those earnest brown eyes. Ben could see a strength there that he himself had lacked at that age. Ren believed his father wasn’t leaving him behind out of rejection, or because he was a burden, or just something his father was too busy to handle right now—but that it was out of love.

Ren had a knowing wisdom about him that couldn’t be contained by the confines of his tiny body. It was as if he transcended his own cells.

Gently, Ben pulled his son in for another embrace. It would be their last hug for the foreseeable future. His son was experiencing something new, something he hadn’t demonstrated before, at least not this fiercely, and Ben wished like hell that he didn’t have to leave him at this critical moment. His son trusted him, and in spite of his confidence, Ren _needed_ him, more than ever, and he was leaving. Ben wasn’t a praying man, but he beseeched whatever gods might hear him to please make sure he returned to see his son again. “I love you, Ren.”

Ren squeezed his father hard, and kissed him twice on the cheek. “I know you do, daddy.”

**———**

Temiri was trying to collect together the last of the things he thought he would need on his mission with Ben. Unlike his last trip, when he knew exactly what he was going to be doing and what he would need in order to do it, this trip was a mystery—it was much harder to predict. He was torn between the desire to pack light and the fear of leaving something behind he was going to regret not having with him.

Comlink? Check. Holopad? Sure. Lightsaber? Duh, of course. But how much clothing? What _kind_ of clothing? What _toiletries_ would be needed—were toiletries stupid things to even be worrying about packing? What about his tools in case he needed to make adjustments to his saber? What about snacks? Should he pack _snacks??_ Would there _be_ enough _snacks??_

He had packed and repacked his bag too many times already, but felt panicked that he couldn’t go through it just one more time, since he’d be leaving any minute.

He was so high strung that he nearly jumped at the sound of Malfi’s voice.

“Temiri? Are you still packing?” asked Malfi, laughing.

Temiri grumbled with mild irritation, “Grrr, yes. I wish I knew how to pack for this trip…”

“Whatever it is, don’t worry too much. Naboo is only a couple hours away through hyperspace. If you forget something really important, you can always just come back for it.”

“I’m sure Ben would _love_ that,” he quipped sarcastically. “Dragging us both back here because I forgot my _socks…_ But you’re right that there’s probably a Plan B for whatever it is I might need that I didn’t bring along.”

“There you go. I’m sure anything you can find here, you could find on Naboo, so don’t stress so much!” She chucked him on the arm, smiling proudly at him. They took a moment just to look at one another. “You know, you’re going to do great,” she said, a glimmer in her eye.

Temiri tossed his head doubtfully to the side. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be a _burden_ , but I don’t know about _great,”_ he said.

“No, I mean it. You’re so powerful, and you have such incredible control. This morning, when you and Shiroto were sparring? You were so _fierce,_ it actually scared me—I’ve never seen anyone fight with such fury. But then, just as I was starting to doubt that you could keep yourself in check, you pulled yourself back and offered him a helping hand. You can use both sides of the Force. You’re amazing.”

“Well, I didn’t do that all on my own,” he said, somewhat shamefaced. “I mean, you helped bring me back, remember?”

She cocked her head at him, incredulous. “I don’t think I deserve any credit at all for that, honestly. Besides screaming my head off, I really didn’t do anything…” she added, with a shrug and a shake of her head.

It was typical for Malfi to be modest about her own achievements, but even so, Temiri was puzzled by this. He remembered how he felt during the closing moments of that duel—he knew he’d lost control. If Malfi hadn’t intervened, then Temiri… He _doubted._ Shiroto wouldn’t be alive. He remembers his kyber crystal, how it _hummed_ at him—it wanted him to be aware. 

He kept these thoughts to himself. “Well anyway,” he said, “I’ll be careful not to let myself get too out of control.”

“I’m sure of it,” she said, with a nod of certainty. “Now, I think, you should be getting out there. Rey’s been back for a little while already. I think you’re supposed to be leaving now.”

“Alright kiddo, I’ll leave. Just give me one last hug first, before we go out there.”

“With pleasure,” she said, and the two embraced, just like proper siblings.

**———**

“Ah, there he is,” said Ben, spotting Temiri and Malfi emerging from the trees.

“I guess that means it’s time then,” said Rey, dolefully. She was standing with Ren in front of her. She had her hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. He looked up at her and smiled sweetly, happily.

Simeon summoned all the students, who had been scattered about the area keeping themselves busy, to come bid them farewell. They sent Ben off with a wave and some supportive words, but Temiri got a bit more attention. It was he who was going off to do something beyond the scope of what a “learner” would normally do—Temiri was a proper apprentice now. They wished him well, and took turns giving him big hugs and personalized encouragement.

“You can do this, bro.”

“You’ve got mad skills with the Force.”

“You’re practically a wizard.”

“You have three days, then I’m moving into your cabin.”

Temiri was touched and entertained by each of them, and worked his way from peer to peer with sincere gratitude and affection. At the end of the line, stood Malfi and Finnie.

“I believe in you,” was all Malfi said. 

Temiri gave her a last smile, then looked at Finnie. “Well,” he said to her, “It’s been nice getting to know you a little more the past couple days. I’m sure we’ll see more of each other when I return.”

“Yeah, same here,” said Finnie. “When you get back, I’d like to challenge you to a swordfight.”

Temiri was incredulous. Was she serious? He just fixed her with a queer look.

 _“Really??”_ asked Malfi, turning to her with astonishment.

“Yes, really. I know how to handle a weapon—don’t underestimate me,” she said casually, though she was as serious as bloodburn. “Probably have to use real swords though, not lightsabers,” she added.

“Okay, sure, I guess,” said Temiri, “We’ll just put a pin in that for now.” Temiri was intrigued by this development, but exploring it further would have to wait.

It was Rey’s turn. “Temiri, please look after him for me. You’re ready. Just stay focused.” She hugged him firmly, rubbing him affectionately on the back. “And _you,”_ she said, looking at Ben, “take care of our first graduate. It’ll stain the school’s reputation if anything happens to him,” she added, winking at Temiri. _And come back soon. Seeing you in your dreams is nice, but it’s not the same._

 _Let’s talk more tonight before I go to bed. I feel like I haven’t really… been able to_ talk _to you since last night._

 _Let’s just not stay up too late,_ she said. _I don’t want to fall asleep before I’ve seen you safely to the end of your dreams._

 _Don’t worry,_ he said, putting an end to their private conversation with a chaste kiss.

“I’ll see you soon, daddy!” shouted Ren. 

Ben gave him a loving smile, followed by a knowing look back at Rey, then turned to the speeder. “Temiri, put your pack in the back, then take a seat next to Poe. Finn, take us to the hangar.”

“This shouldn’t take long,” called Finn from the driver’s seat. “Between the two of us, we ought to be able to secure a decent enough form of transportation for them, then we’ll be back.”

The speeder pulled away, and the klicks flew by. It would be at least a couple hours before they made it to Naboo, and a couple hours more before Ben could call it a day. He had never been so anxious to go back to sleep.

**———**

“So we need to requisition a shuttle.”

“Alright Commander Tico,” said the officer in charge of ship assignments. He tapped on his computer console to get the process started. “I haven’t already received any formal requests from anywhere regarding your mission, so could you please provide me your authorization code?”

Finn and company exchanged glances. “Well, this isn’t official Republic business. It’s sort of a…”

“—it’s like a secret mission,” interjected Poe. “Jedi stuff.”

The officer glanced at Ben Solo waiting patiently in the background, along with his smartly dressed teenage apprentice, and looked back at Finn. “I see. Well, through its agreement with the Republic, the school has its own account when it comes to requisitioning transportation. Shall I put this through the school then?”

“We can’t secure anything better than what the school gets?” asked Finn.

“Without an official code, I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything that goes beyond your authority in your own departments regarding _personal_ use of military equipment. Your department doesn’t allow for anything very fancy, I’m afraid.” He glanced at Poe, “And I’m sorry, Captain Dameron, but your privileges seem to have been—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Poe interrupted. “We’ll take whatever we can get under the commander’s authority.”

“Okay, in that case, I can offer you one of our Mark II transport shuttles.”

“Those hodge-podge pieces of crap??” blurted Poe, dismayed. _“That’s_ what Finn’s authority gets him??” He stood, open-mouthed, for a brief second, before asking, as almost an afterthought, “What can we get through the school?”

The officer tapped a few keys on his console. “…A Mark II transport shuttle.” The officer looked apologetically back at them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you the run-around. Now that I've browsed our inventory, it looks like this shuttle is literally the _only_ thing we have left that doesn’t need repair.”

Poe knit his brows together. “Since when is selection this bad? Why are we so strapped for transportation all of a sudden?”

“Sorry, Captain, I really don’t know,” he said, somewhat sheepishly. “Some operation has called up most of our extra resources, so we’re short-handed everywhere right now.”

 _‘Operation’?_ thought Poe. _What ‘operation’?_ Poe bristled at the realization that there were events taking place that he wasn’t in on. The Resistance, the _Republic_ , had been his whole world, and he shrank inwardly at the thought that his own actions were to blame for his current ignorance. He gave a defeated sigh. “Well, at least they have hyperdrive capability…”

“I’ll just check that out to you then,” said the officer, turning back to his computer, relieved to have arrived at a solution. “You can find it in Bay Six.”

“Thank you,” said Finn, and the four of them headed off in that direction.

“Boy, your department certainly has crap privileges when it comes to transportation,” said Poe.

“Look, I’m in charge of training recruits in hand-to-hand combat—I don’t require a lot of fast ships loaded with the best tech in order to do that,” Finn explained. Not that he’d been supervising all that much training lately—over the last year, he’d relegated most of the responsibility for that to his subordinates, who took it on without even being asked.

“How come the school doesn’t get better stuff? They give us computers and weapons already, so why not better ships?” asked Temiri.

“It’s in the Republic’s interests to keep us connected, well-educated, and trained,” explained Ben. “They donate materials that they don’t strictly need anymore, and provide us with assistance under the tacit agreement that if there’s ever a problem they can’t solve themselves, we’ll step in and fix it for them. It’s an unofficial quid pro quo, but we’re not an arm of the government—they don’t see a lot of return in giving us fancy ships.”

“To be fair, the Republic recognizes that having…” he glanced subtly at Poe, “…people who can capably use the Force… is good for the galaxy as a whole, not just the government. They don’t give you guys stuff just to get something in return.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” said Ben. “But it’s still convenient.”

Finn smirked. “Well anyway,” he said, “it was the only ship they had, so I guess it hardly matters.” At that, the men were silent. They didn’t say anything more until they reached Bay Six, and the shuttle they would be using.

“What a piece of junk,” said Poe, looking it over disdainfully. “Doesn’t even have any weapons.”

“Well, hopefully, we won’t need them anyway,” said Ben. “Since our ‘enemy’—for lack of a better word—appears to be ethereal in nature…“

“That’s true, I suppose,” said Finn.

“Temiri, please take the bags inside and get yourself acquainted with the control panel. I need a word with Finn and Poe before we leave.”

Temiri nodded and took Ben’s pack from him, then boarded the shuttle as he was asked. Finn and Poe looked curiously at Ben.

“What’s up?” asked Poe.

“Don’t worry about the shuttle—I didn’t really ask you here for that anyway,” said Ben.

“No?” said Finn, “What, then?”

Ben looked at them calmly, but with an uncertainty that put them both instantly on edge. “I don’t totally understand what I’m going up against,” he said. “I want you two to keep an eye on Rey, whenever possible.”

Finn’s brow crinkled. “What are you afraid might happen to her?”

“I don’t know. My dream last night just has me a little wound up.”

“I thought you said your dream wasn’t that bad?” said Poe.

“It wasn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just a feeling I have. I think… he could sense that Rey was there. He asked who she was, and it… was unsettling.”

“You don’t think maybe that was just your grandpa being all like, ‘Hey grandson, who’s this hot lady hanging out inside your brain? She’s out of your league, kid!’” said Poe, with a mocking wink in Ben’s direction.

Finn rolled his eyes, but Ben understood that Poe was asking a sincere question in a very ‘Poe’ sort of way, so he granted it a sober answer. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on her. Ren too,” said Finn.

“We will,” added Poe.

Ben looked back and forth between the two of them. They had been enemies once, he and they. Thanks to Rey, and thanks to the caliber of the men in front of him, he knew that that history would have no influence over any promises or oaths they might make to him today. He could trust that if they said they would do their utmost to look after his family for him while he was away, then… his family was in good hands.

Ben nodded his thanks, and without another word, he disappeared into the shuttle, out of sight, and out of their lives for the foreseeable future.

In his thirty-seven years, Ben had left home many times. Most often, those departures had felt liberating—in leaving, he’d been freeing himself from something that was holding him back. For the first time ever in his recollection, he felt a sting as he watched the ground grow smaller beneath his feet. For once in his life, he had something he wanted to come back to.


	9. Reconnaissance

**———Chapter 9: Reconnaissance———**

It’s tough to play “My Cows” during interstellar transport, so needless to say, the time they spent in hyperspace was not the most riveting couple hours of Ben and Temiri’s lives. Temiri whiled away the trip dinking around on his holopad, and Ben spent most of it in quiet meditation, doing his best to manage his anxiety at having left Dendrokaan and its inhabitants behind. Temiri wasn’t fazed—traveling with Simeon hadn’t been much better. Both men were relieved when Naboo was finally within sight.

Ben and Temiri parked their shuttle at the Port of Theed, the capital’s main interplanetary docking facility. Parking at the capital wasn’t cheap, so they hoped they wouldn’t have to be here for too long before either bringing things to a close, or following breadcrumbs to some other, less expensive, planet. There wasn’t a lot of money in training Force-sensitives.

“Got everything?” asked Ben. “I don’t want to have to come back here until we’re ready to leave.”

“Yes, I think so. Where are we going first?” asked Temiri.

“I think first we should find a place to stay where we can leave our things. Then I thought we could get some dinner and do a little casual investigating. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” replied Temiri, simply. He was regretting his decision not to pack any snacks.

They walked the streets of Theed without saying very much, each of them just quietly observing their surroundings as they passed. Theed was a beautiful city. Technologically advanced, but not to the point of having lost its sentiment for old things. Historical monuments and antique architecture were preserved with a sense of pride in a history that went back ages. The new was not snubbed, and the old was not forgotten. Theed had managed to elegantly balance its love of their shared history with its passion for innovation and progress.

Be that as it may, whatever internal radar Ben was following seemed to have an aversion for beauty; he had managed to find parts of Theed that the city itself didn’t seem aware of. “This looks promising,” said Ben as they approached a simple, nondescript building, somewhat smaller even than the other structures in this part of town. Temiri wouldn’t have registered the building’s existence at all if Ben hadn’t made him stop and look.

They stepped through the threshold and approached the front desk. “We’d like two rooms, please,” said Ben, without waiting to be greeted.

“How many nights?” asked the clerk.

“Can we pay one day at a time? We’re not sure how long we’ll be staying.”

“Day by day costs more. You sure?”

“It’s fine,” said Ben. “One day at a time.”

The clerk jabbed his fingers into the console in front of him, bringing up the room and payment information screens. “Under what name?”

“Temiri Blagg,” answered Ben. Temiri perked up at the sound of his own name—that wasn’t something he’d been expecting.

“Mister Blagg,” repeated the clerk, glancing between the two of them. “And how will you be paying?”

Ben handed the clerk a Republic-issue credit card, the sight of which caused the clerk to straighten up. “Is this official government business, my good sir? We are honored to host you! But you see, there are accommodations closer to the Royal Pavilion that are perhaps better suited to men of your stature…”

“No, this will be fine. _We’d appreciate your discretion while we’re here,”_ he said, with a penetrating look.

The clerk stiffened a bit. “…I can offer you discretion while you’re here.” Message received.

“Excellent. Is there anything else then?”

“Nothing more for you to do, sir, no. They’re single bed rooms. Private toilets, but the showers are at the end of the hall. Here are your keycards. Rooms 305 and 317.”

Ben took the cards and thanked the clerk, then gestured for Temiri to follow him. On either side of the lobby were large doors opening up to long, winding staircases. Ben picked a set of stairs and began his ascent. The turbolift was out of order.

Temiri had a million questions swirling around in his head, but he bit his tongue as they climbed the stairs. Eventually, they reached the third floor, and the first of the rooms they’d reserved. Ben inserted the keycard and stepped inside, shutting the door behind them.

Temiri watched as Ben studied the tiny room, trying to see it through his eyes. Ben checked the refresher to the left, kicked the desk chair aside and opened the dresser drawers, and stepped up to the window and looked out.

“You can have this room,” Ben said as he stared out the window. “I’ll take the next one.” He then stepped around Temiri and back toward the door. He paused at the door to impart some instructions to his apprentice. “Take a couple minutes to get familiar with this room, use the ‘fresher if you need to, and do whatever else. I’ll be down in my room. Meet me there when you’re ready, and we’ll find some dinner. There are no curtains on these windows, so try to stay closer to the door when you’re in here. I don’t imagine we’ll attract too much attention while we’re here, but don’t make yourself easier to see than absolutely necessary.”

Before Ben could exit, Temiri stopped him. “Ben, why are we being so secretive? Are we in danger? Why did you use my name instead of yours? I mean, you mind-tricked the clerk into keeping quiet about us…”

Ben sighed. “There’s just too much we don’t understand about what’s going on. My experience has taught me that a little caution in these types of circumstances can pay dividends in the end.”

“Caution? You don’t mean paranoia?” asked Temiri with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s only paranoid if it’s unfounded,” he said matter-of-factly.

“And _is_ it unfounded?” asked Temiri.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.”

Temiri nodded. Ben shut the door, and Temiri listened as Ben’s footsteps grew quieter and quieter as he progressed down the hall to his own room.

Temiri turned and assessed his accomodations again. He was used to living simply, but their things, while simple, were utilitarian and in good condition. This was the capital of Naboo—resources here were plentiful, yet everything in this hotel looked neglected and broken. What did his teacher, former Supreme Leader of the First Order and son of Princess, Senator, and Resistance General Leia Organa see when he examined this room? Maybe this was some throwback to more spartan, Jedi sensibilities, but… Temiri just saw a shithole.

**———**

Ben’s room was virtually identical to Temiri’s, as he had suspected it would be—the only apparent difference is that his was a little closer to the showers. From his window, Ben could see out into the back alley behind the hotel. Theed’s alleys were not as pristinely kept up as its front-facing shops and plazas, but Ben hadn’t chosen this building for its accommodations or its ambience. Unlike what he’d have found in many of the nicer hotels typical of the capital city of a major planet, this place was unlikely to be the subject of any widespread surveillance. When it came to privacy and keeping out of others’ business, Ben trusted miscreants and ne’er-do-wells far more than he trusted governments or the well-to-do and well-connected.

Maybe it _was_ just paranoia, but it’s only in hindsight that the difference between paranoia and measured discretion is made plain.

He didn’t have much to do while he waited for Temiri. He had no plans to unpack his small bag during his stay on this planet—he preferred to keep it ready to leave at the drop of a hat. That said, he did take a moment to use the refresher. The light in the cramped room buzzed and flickered when he turned it on. He paused for a moment to study his own face in the mirror before relieving himself and washing his hands at the sink. Cooling his face with his wet hands a bit before drying them on the thighs of his pants, he exited the modest refresher.

Ben could feel Temiri approaching, so he took one last glance around his room to imprint a picture in his memory as to how everything was laid out, then turned the knob to open the door. 

“How’s your room?” asked Temiri by way of greeting.

“Same as yours.” Ben glanced down to Temiri’s waist, spotting the lightsaber on display. “Keep that under your cloak for now. Let’s not draw any extra attention.”

Temiri blinked skeptically, but did as he was told. He found it mildly amusing that a lightsaber should be such a dead giveaway, what with Jedi being as endangered as they were. “What’s the harm in letting people see it? Simeon didn’t have to hide his when we were here a few days ago.”

“I don’t want to be a curiosity,” Ben answered. “We’re here to investigate, not to be investigated.”

Temiri shrugged. He was proud of his lightsaber, and of being a trained Force user. He couldn’t deny the pang of pride that gnawed at him. He wanted people to see him as powerful. With a stab of shame, he grudgingly admitted just the tiniest desire to show off.

The two strode down the hall in the opposite direction from the way they had come up. The hall wasn’t wide enough for them to walk side by side, so Temiri remained a couple steps behind Ben. When they reached the staircase on the other side of the building, they made their descent.

As they entered the lobby of their shabby hotel, Temiri nodded to the desk clerk, who smiled and nodded back. Ben walked briskly through the space without a thought for such courtesies.

As they stepped into the evening air, Ben took a moment to reach out with his senses. 

Temiri, noting a shift in Ben’s demeanor, asked, “What are you doing?”

“Temiri, find us somewhere we can get some dinner where there are a lot of people.”

He could tell that Ben was testing him, and Temiri didn’t want to fail. He reached out with his senses and felt for where the Force flowed the most strongly. “The city center is that way,” he said, pointing east.

“Good,” said Ben, nodding in agreement. “Let’s go.” He gestured for Temiri to step ahead of him and take the lead.

Temiri felt a surge of pride at Ben’s apparent approval. He took a confident step forward and led the way down the sparsely populated thoroughfare. The closer they got to the city center, the more landspeeders cruised past them. Most were civilian speeders, but scattered in among those were the _Seraph_ -class urban landspeeders that the Royal Naboo Security Forces used for patrolling and peacekeeping.

Eventually, the street opened up on an immense plaza. In the center of the plaza stood a grand monument commemorating the restoration of the Galactic Senate in the wake of the Battle of Endor in 4 ABY. The monument was an elegant combination of cut marble, stained glass, and copper. At its base, a triangle of N-1 starfighters fired pointedly upwards toward a central peak, terminating in an enormous cloud of smoky gray glass. Copper piping, green from decades of exposure, encircled and supported the cloud sculpture, poking out erratically in jagged lightning bolts striking toward the planet’s surface.

“Did you see this when you were here with Simeon?” asked Ben.

“No,” answered Temiri, shaking his head slowly as he took in the details of the colossal structure. “What is it?”

“It commemorates the fraught reestablishment of the Galactic Senate. Naboo was the homeworld of Sheev Palpatine—”

“—The Emperor?” interrupted Temiri.

“Yes, eventually. But he served for many years as a senator representing Naboo in the Galactic Republic. He was canny, and engineered the collapse of the Republic so that he could take over as Emperor. After the Battle of Endor, Princess Leia Organa, my mother, visited Naboo to try to get its support in the establishment of the New Republic and the restoration of the senate. They agreed, no doubt feeling guilty over their own ties to Palpatine. However, loyalists to the Emperor set up a climate disruption array in orbit, threatening to render Naboo unlivable unless they refused the Republic. The array was destroyed by the queen, my mother, and an Alliance pilot,” he said, gesturing to the triangle of starfighters at the monument’s base. “After that, Naboo could reestablish the Senate,” he added.

“Your _mom_ was in one of those ships??” Temiri asked, awestruck.

“She was.”

Temiri thought hard to place this new information into the storehouse of other knowledge he had collected about Naboo, its history, and its relationship to Ben. “So is that your connection to this place? I thought you said it was your _grandmother_ who was from here?”

“She was. She was the queen.”

Temiri’s jaw dropped even further as he was struck momentarily dumb. “So your _grandma_ was in one of the other ships??” he asked, pointing at the huge monument.

“Different queen. My grandmother died in childbirth. Let’s eat here,” said Ben, abruptly but nonchalantly changing the subject and ducking into a restaurant with pub seating at the back. Temiri practically tripped over himself following Ben inside.

Temiri was bewildered by the sudden change in tone and setting. His mind still reeled from the history-slash-genealogy lesson he’d just received, and this crowded, noisy, dimly lit establishment did nothing to help him get his mind in order. While Ben moved swiftly through the masses of tables and patrons, Temiri seemed to bump into everything in his path.

Ben eventually found them seats at the bar toward the rear of the establishment. Ben sat down, and Temiri carefully climbed the stool next to his, eyes darting anxiously around the room.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted the Gungan at the bar. “May I get a meal started for either of you? Or perhaps you’re here to drink? We have some excellent vintages of Naboo wine on offer.”

Ben tried to stifle a frown as he considered the Gungan’s offer. “Actually, you don’t have any Hutt bile, do you?”

“Excuse me?” replied the Gungan, perplexed.

“Never mind,” he said, slightly embarrassed. “Just some ale for me.” He turned to Temiri, giving him a light smack on the arm. “What do you want to eat?”

Temiri had no idea what to ask for, so he just ordered the exact same thing Simeon had ordered for him when they came through Naboo earlier. “Can I have some shaak?”

“Oh, absolutely, sir! Our shaaks are 100% grass-fed and raised cruelty-free. And our shaak steaks come with a bowl of Nyork chowder, a personal favorite of mine,” effused the Gungan with a proud smirk.

“Sounds good,” replied Temiri.

“And to drink?”

“Uh…” uttered Temiri, mouth hanging open.

“Just make it two ales and two shaak dinners, please,” said Ben, trying to hurry this along.

The Gungan bowed politely and shuffled off, leaving the two apparent tourists to themselves. Alone at last, Ben sighed and glanced inconspicuously around the restaurant. Looking at Temiri, he projected his thoughts at him.

_Ready to do a little investigating?_

Temiri took a breath. This felt like another test. He had learned to project his thoughts as well, but found it incredibly tiring—it required a lot of focus. He chose to nod his head in reply.

_Just listen. Browse around the room and peek in on people’s thoughts and conversations. You don’t even necessarily need to read their minds, just use the Force to assist your ability to hear them around the room. See what you can learn._

Temiri nodded nervously, took a deep, steadying breath, and did as he was told. A general reading of the room revealed an enormous heterogeneity of the clientele: businessmen, politicians, tourists, and couples and friends, mainly. Their conversations bordered on the dull, the opaque, and the salacious. He didn’t see any of it as being particularly helpful. There was, however, an interesting _feeling_ he was getting, but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it. Not able to discern anything in their environment that seemed likely to be the source of it, he chalked it up to his own jumpy imagination—he felt something weird because he thought he was _supposed_ to feel something weird. They were trying to make contact with the spirit world, after all.

The bartender returned with their ales. “Here you are, sirs. It’ll be just a few more minutes with your meals.”

Ben reached slowly for his mug and took a steady sip. Temiri watched him, looking for cues as to how he should approach the beverage—he’d never had alcohol before.

Temiri took his mug by the handle, inadvertently spilling a little down the side as he was slow to realize just how heavy the mug was. He quickly supported the heavier side with his other hand and swiped self-consciously at the spill on the counter. Distracted from his mental surveillance, he turned in his stool and observed the crowded facility the old-fashioned way. His eyes confirmed what he’d seen in his mind regarding the makeup of the customers. People spoke in confidential tones in private booths, others laughed and talked loudly, and still others barely said anything at all, choosing instead to look suggestively at one another and touch each other in inconspicuous ways.

Really, Temiri couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary in what he found. He felt entirely useless at reconnaissance.

A clatter behind him sent Temiri spinning back toward the bar, but it was just the Gungan, returning with their dinners. “And here are your meals, my good sirs. Please enjoy your food, and don’t hesitate to alert me if you should require anything else,” he said with a last subservient bow and a wave of his hand.

“Thank you,” said Temiri, awkwardly but enthusiastically grasping for his knife and fork and digging into the tender meat on his plate. Ben was more dignified when it came to his food. One might even have called him disinterested.

“Uh, Ben? Are you going to eat?” questioned Temiri, his mouth stuffed full of an overeager bite of steak. 

Ben’s gaze was cast down at his plate. Temiri had thought he was looking at his food, but upon closer examination, Ben was actually staring off into space—his eyes just happened to be pointed in the general direction of his dinner.

Ben popped up suddenly and grabbed for his utensils. “Sorry, I was… listening to something.”

“Uh… huh,” nodded Temiri, swallowing. He washed his first bite down with a swig of ale and was again cutting into his steak.

They consumed their meal in silence. To Temiri’s eyes, Ben was deep in concentration. The muscles in his jaw were straining, but Temiri didn’t think it was from the food, which was pretty tender, actually.

When they were finished, Ben ran the government credit card, paying their bill without fanfare. In this part of the capital, a Republic-issue credit card didn’t raise any eyebrows. Pocketing the card, Ben gestured with his chin for Temiri to head for the door, and they again navigated the sea of other patrons. If Temiri had thought it was difficult avoiding bumping into people before, with a liter of ale in his belly, it was practically farcical. Heads turned from all corners of the bar to watch them leave, and Ben watched the watchers.

“Man, it’s crowded in there!” slurred Temiri once they were outside. He was red-faced. “And hot!” he added, fanning himself.

“Let’s go back now. Follow me, and stay close.” Ben stepped in front of his apprentice and walked in a straight line toward one of the many avenues that radiated out from the plaza. 

Temiri must have gotten turned around somewhere. He didn’t think this was the right way back to the hotel.

_How drunk are you? What did you see in there?_

“Hey, I’m not drunk! Am I…? And I didn’t see anything ‘cept a buncha tourists an’ couples an’ shit…”

Ben sighed and asked no further questions. He had all the answers he needed from Temiri for now.

Temiri didn’t remember quite so many twists and turns going from the hotel to the restaurant. He laughed to himself as he considered the possibility that actually, Ben was lost.

_Don’t say anything aloud, but we’re not lost. I’m taking a circuitous route back._

Temiri was confused, but didn’t say anything out loud. However, he couldn’t summon the concentration to project his thoughts either, so he just focused on putting one foot in front of the other to follow Ben’s lead back to wherever their hotel was located. 

When they were finally within spitting distance of the hotel, Temiri sighed with relief. “Damn, it’s about time. I gotta pee…”

Ben grabbed Temiri by the shoulder and firmly guided him into the building and past the front desk. The clerk cast a curious eye in their direction, but otherwise did his best to keep a low profile. They took the same staircase up that they had the first time, and soon, Ben was assisting Temiri into his room. 

Closing the door behind him, Ben gently shoved Temiri into the refresher and headed to the back of the room, toward the window. He kept himself close to the wall, glancing surreptitiously out the window at various angles. Eventually, Temiri came tottering out of the refresher and toward his bed, eventually flopping down on the mattress.

“Time for bed,” said Ben. “Busy day tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” hummed Temiri. He was already slipping out of his robe and kicking his boots off.

Ben watched him absentmindedly work his way through undressing himself, amused at the lack of efficiency. There was only so much clothing one could remove from a sitting position.

As he waited for his apprentice to prove that he could manage putting himself to bed, Ben stole this moment to reach out to Rey.

_We’re just about done for the day. I should be ready to sleep in about ten minutes. Are you in a place where you can find me?_

It took a moment for Rey to respond. Ben helped Temiri out of a particularly troublesome sleeve.

_I will be in ten or fifteen minutes, yes. I just need to wrap up what I’m doing first._

Once Temiri had managed to wriggle most of the way out of his clothing, Ben helped him under his sheets and headed for the door. He paused at the desk, about to set Temiri’s hotel room keycard there for him, but thought better of it. Perhaps he would hang on to both cards for a bit longer.

Ben shut Temiri’s door behind him and walked the short distance back to his own room. Once inside, he removed his cloak and draped it over the chair at the desk. He was about to head into the refresher, but stopped himself, having the presence of mind to drag the desk chair over toward the bed first. Now that Rey would have a more comfortable place to sit at his bedside, he made use of the refresher, and was ready to sleep. 

Night had fallen, but enough diffuse light filtered in through his unobscured window that even after he turned out his lamp, the way to his bed was visible. He made himself comfortable under the unfamiliar linens, and glanced out the window. Laying there, he could see through to the upper floors of the building across the alley, and to some rooftops further away. He felt nothing out of the ordinary in the shadows beyond, and tried his best to relax. 

Rey’s voice in his mind came to him like water in the desert. _I’m home. Are you ready?_

_Yes. Are you alone?_

_No. Poe is here with me. He’s putting Ren to bed right now._

The sound of his son’s name pulled at Ben’s heart, and he covered his face in his hands. _How is Ren?_

_He’s fine. Positively self-assured, in fact. What did you say to him earlier?_

_Nothing special, but he said he had figured out some way he could help me, even if I left. Said he could help me like how_ you _help me. I don’t even know if he knows what that means, but it seemed to make him feel good._ He made a dismissive gesture with his hands, in spite of no one being there to see it.

_Well, he’s had a smile on his face all day, so I guess that’s one less thing for you to worry about while you’re away._

_I suppose._ For a few long seconds, no words were exchanged, but they could still feel one another in their minds. It was a kind of closeness, but Ben was ready for more. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. _Can you come here now, please?_

Ben breathed deeply as he felt his environment shift to accommodate her presence. As she appeared, the light from her own environment gave her an other-worldly glow. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. “I pulled a chair over here next to the bed. Take my hand so you can see it,” he said, reaching out to the shadows for her.

Her touch was all he needed to feel at home in this strange place. He guided her down into the flimsy desk chair, holding fast to her hand. The chair was now a part of their shared reality, and would remain solid underneath her even after letting her go. He just didn’t want to.

“How was your evening?” she asked. “How’s Temiri?”

Ben scoffed. “He’s drunk, the little lightweight. I’ve decided that we’re doing our students a disservice by not keeping any alcohol at the school. It turns out that building up some amount of tolerance may be a necessary part of training…”

Rey laughed. “How much did he drink?”

 _“One_ ale,” he groaned. “Then I had to drag him back here and put him to bed.”

“Sounds like he’s made himself useful so far,” she laughed.

“Mmm,” he said. 

Rey didn’t want to rush things, but she knew her stamina wouldn’t last all night. She chose this lull in the conversation to switch to more urgent subjects. “So you had wanted to talk before trying to sleep? What’s on your mind?”

“We never discussed what took place in my dream… after my visit from Anakin.”

Rey cocked her head at him. “Uh, yes we did.”

Ben furrowed his brow, puzzled. “Did we?”

“Yes, in your dream, we did. After I shook you—in your dream, I mean—you told me Anakin asked you ‘Who is that?’, meaning _me_ , you assumed. Is that why you asked Poe and Finn to keep me company?”

“Did they tell you that?”

“No, I just assumed that watching me have special Force-bond time with you wasn’t _their_ idea of a good time.”

“It’s not mine either, but I was worried about you. I didn’t like the way he said it…”

“So you said, when we discussed this before,” she said.

“Man, I don’t remember _any_ of that. I remember fighting you, and there are snippets of… intimacy… and some… interesting birds.” Rey smiled. Ben continued, “And I remember the moment when my grandfather came to me, though I have no recollection whatsoever of how I got from one dreamscape to the other. The time with my grandfather was much less severe—but something about his _tone…”_

“Sounds to me like you remember everything except the parts when I was actually talking to you. That stinks. It would save some time if we could talk meaningfully in your dreams…”

“Sorry,” said Ben.

Rey sighed, “Hardly your fault, my dear. It is what it is. Now, are you ready to do it all again?”

“Yes,” replied Ben. “I suppose I am.”

“Poe?” called Rey. “We’re about to begin. Wanna come in here?”

With a parting squeeze, Ben let go of Rey’s fingers. “I’ll never be able to sleep if I think he can see me,” he said.

Rey frowned, missing him already. “Well, I promise I won’t touch you if he’s watching, so rest easy, okay?” she shot a glance over her shoulder, so Ben could tell Poe was in there with her.

“He needs to make sure you don’t fall asleep while you’re inside my head,” cautioned Ben. “I want you _alert_ in there.”

“Like I said, rest easy. I’m in good hands,” she said, winking to the invisible man to her left.

“I hate this,” said Ben, but he did everything he could to mentally prepare himself to fall asleep.

“See you on the inside,” she said. “Not that you’ll _remember_ it.”

“I love you, Rey. Good night.”

 _I love you too_ , she said to him, privately. With nothing but the sound of his breathing as the soundtrack to her vision, she watched, entranced, as the man of her dreams drifted off into his.

**———**

As darkness settled over the city of Theed, the shadows encroached. Under the cover of night, two onlookers watched as the man they’d been tracking settled into his room.

“This is perfect. He couldn’t have been here more than a day,” hissed one of the watchers. 

“Indeed,” answered the other. “Our lord will be pleased. We did well to intoxicate his protection.”

“And they’re not even sleeping in the same room. This should be easy.”

“Quiet, I’m going to send a message to—wait, what’s he doing?”

Startled, the other onlooker observed more closely. Their target was in bed, but was making movements that were inconsistent with what someone trying to sleep would do. “Strange… I’m not sure. Was there another person with him?”

“Mudâr said there were only the two of them.” The two observers then went still, concentrating.

“I don’t sense anyone else. Do you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, but suddenly, his eyes were wide with astonishment. “Wait! Look now!”

As the two watched, the man reached out his hand, and they could only stare disbelievingly as a woman who wasn’t there mere seconds ago suddenly appeared, holding his hand. She was now sitting comfortably in the seat next to the bed, glowing with inexplicable radiance. Their confidence vaporized as they interpreted this for the only thing it could be.

“We were mistaken. It’s not the boy.”

“No. This is a great deal more complicated.”

“Worry not. Our lord will know how to handle her.”


	10. Inquietudes

**———Chapter 10: Inquietudes———**

Poe was bored off his ass. It was cool the way she looked like she was hovering, sitting in a chair that was only visible to her, but the novelty of that had worn off long ago. He’d been watching Rey for two hours already, and he was on his fourth cup of caf. He’d started drinking it after about twenty minutes in, just as a thing to do. His only means of passing the time besides drinking his caf was to watch Rey. It was kind of creepy the way her eyes darted back and forth under her eyelids, but at least it kept his mind sort of busy, imagining what she might be seeing—and it assured him that she hadn’t fallen asleep sitting up. 

The next time he did this, he would bring a book or something.

**———**

His home looked abandoned. The curtain obscuring the door was torn and tattered, and weeds had grown up all along the outside of the stone walls. Part of the roof had caved in from weathering, and the pragmatic part of his brain worried about what had become of the computer equipment inside.

_My god, how long has it been like this? Where is everyone? How long was I away?_

Confusion swirled in him as he stepped through the threshold. Oddly, the damage didn’t look so bad from the inside. In fact, it looked lived in. There was trash everywhere, but much of it seemed recent—evidence that someone was there regularly.

 _Who’s squatting in our house?_ he wondered. He heard a noise. Crying?

It was coming from Ren’s room. Ben stepped around the table and across the littered floor. He reached for the doorknob. The mechanics inside the knob engaged and released the door from its latch. Pushing into the room, Ben felt curiously unwelcome, as though he was trespassing on territory he had no right to be in. The room itself was much the same as Ben had last seen it—dustier, perhaps, bed unmade, but still Ren’s. Behind the bed, on the floor in the corner, was the source of the noise.

Ren was there, face buried in his arms, sobbing. Ben’s heart broke at the sight, and he knelt down to comfort his son. As he laid his hand to Ren’s shoulder, Ren jerked away as though stung.

“Don’t! Don’t pretend to care about me!” he screamed, casting a fierce eye at Ben. “You _left_ me here!”

Ben’s jaw dropped. He was too hurt to respond. 

But Ren had barely gotten started. “You never wanted me around! Wouldn’t _train_ me. Thought I was _useless_. But you had time for all those _other_ kids, didn’t you! You _hate_ me, don’t you?! You think I’m a monster!”

Ben fell to his knees, impotent in the face of his son’s embittered wrath. “I didn’t… you’re not… I’m so sorry, Ren.”

“No you’re not! You sent me away! You never loved me!!”

Just as Ben was about to collapse under the guilt and hurt, a voice from behind him caught him just in time. “Okay, that’s enough.” 

Ben turned around to see Rey standing in the doorway, staring down at him with sympathetic eyes. 

“I think you’ve tortured yourself enough for one night,” she said.

Ben was utterly confused. “Rey? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“This is your dream, you poor fool,” she said. “Since you don’t seem to remember it when I interact with you here, I was trying not to get involved. But, this is too painful to watch.”

She turned to the dream version of her son sitting in the corner, still staring daggers at his father. “You don’t really feel this way, do you?” she asked him.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Yes I do! I’m a monster and he wanted to be rid of me!”

“No, you don’t, and of course you’re not. But this is how _daddy_ felt. This is how he saw himself, once. And what he’s afraid he’s doing to you.”

Dream-Ren looked hard into his mother’s eyes, and without another word, his body dissociated into vapor and blew away as they watched. Rey put her hand on Ben’s shoulder and stared at him, _into_ him. “He’s not you, and you’re not hurting him the way you’re afraid you are. He knows we love him, and he understands why you left.”

Ben looked back at her with fear. Fear that what she was saying was wrong. His son _did_ hate him. He _was_ a failure as a parent. His son would grow up with that seed of hate burning in his soul, and he would push everyone away so they wouldn’t be around to prove to him that he was worth loving. Tears glistened in the corners of Ben’s eyes as he imagined what his son would become.

“Not even I can convince you, can I?” she asked, pulling him into a hug. “You poor thing. It’s still a mess in here, even after all this time. Even after you saw his confidence with your own eyes. What am I going to do with you?” They rocked slightly as she held him.

Ben hugged her back, but could not shake the guilt the dream had stirred in him. Rey would have her hands full all night trying to manipulate his dreams into something that didn’t leave him crippled with worry in the morning.

**———**

_My lord, we’ve found him. We’ve found the Skywalker. He is here on Naboo._

_He took the bait, after all. Excellent. It shouldn’t be long now._

_But my lord, there is a complication. His protector is not who we thought. It is another, a woman. They are bonded by the Force._

_I have seen her. She is formidable. But fear not, my servant, for she is not infallible. Just as it is his attachment that brought him to Naboo, it is his attachment to this woman that will be his undoing. And hers. There is a ritual you must perform… This is what you must do…_

**———**

The caf had helped, if for no other reason than that it forced him to get up and pee every so often, keeping him from just dozing off or allowing his brain to turn to moosh. Poe wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this twice. It came as an enormous relief when she finally opened her eyes and spoke to him.

“He’s waking up. What time is it?”

Poe rubbed his face, glancing around ineffectually for a chronometer. “Uhhh…”

Rey sat up from the invisible chair and flopped into her own bed as she pulled herself completely out of Ben’s reality. As she lay in bed, she slowly dug her chronometer out of her pocket and studied it. “Almost six. That’s good. He made it all night.” She dropped the chronometer on the bedside table and laid her arm across her closed eyes.

“No grandpa?” Poe asked.

“No grandpa,” she confirmed. “Bad dreams, but no grandpa…”

“Do I want to know?” he asked.

Rey shook her head, moving her arm to her side. “He’s just afraid that history is repeating itself. Not that it’s an excuse, but Ben’s fall to the Dark Side was aggravated by feelings of rejection from his family. He had a very strong Force sensitivity from an early age, and his mother could feel the streak of Darkness in him. His father didn’t understand what was happening, and sort of… disengaged. They sent him away to train with Luke because they thought he would be better equipped to handle what was happening to him.”

“So, what? Abandonment issues?”

“Yes,” she answered. “And then a… misunderstanding… between him and Luke was the final tipping point, and his anger and hurt finally got the better of him.”

“So how is he repeating history, exactly?”

“He left Ren here,” she said simply.

In his sleep-deprived state, it took Poe a moment to connect what that had to do with what had happened to Ben. “Well, that’s not the same thing at all!” exclaimed Poe, finally putting it together. “He had to leave for totally different reasons, and—I’m guessing—Ren is a different kid entirely. Plus, _you_ stayed, so it’s not like he was completely abandoned anyway…”

“It isn’t logical, I know, but that doesn’t matter. Ben’s just terrified of making the same kinds of mistakes his parents made.”

“Shit, his parents were amazing. My mother died ages ago. Leia was practically a surrogate mother to me.”

“And you were her surrogate son,” she said, yawning wide. “It’s not that he thinks his parents were bad people, and he understands now that they never hated or disavowed him, but that just makes it worse.”

“Worse how?”

“Worse, because…” she sighed, “if they weren’t bad parents who thought their child was a monster, then that just means that a _loving_ parent who is doing his absolute best can still fuck up his own kid to the point that they want to murder him and take over the galaxy.”

“Ah,” said Poe with a pronounced nod, comprehending. Even as he sat in his chair, his equilibrium faltered with that simple movement. He was completely spent, utterly mentally drained. He looked vacantly around the room, trying to decide what to do with himself now that his job as watchdog was finally done for the night. He was too tired to think.

“Rey?” he said. “I’m… I’m fucking exhausted. Can I crash here?” he asked, pointing limply at the bed, as though she was looking at him. She wasn’t.

Her eyes closed, she nodded her head. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” he said, laying down on what was ordinarily her side of the bed. He tried to kick his boots off before laying down, but didn’t get very far. He gave up after struggling to get just his left boot to the floor.

For a few seconds, they just lay there, breathing steadily, on the verge of falling asleep. Now was their time to let go of consciousness, but Poe had just one more question.

“Rey?”

“What is it, Poe?”

“How come _you’re_ not all afraid of screwing up your kid? Not to bring up old wounds, but didn’t your parents ditch you, like, legitimately? Sold you into slavery or something?”

“They did. And I am.”

“Then how come you’re able to handle it so much better?”

“I’m not.”

“Really? You seem like you are.”

“I’m not…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because. Ben was afraid, but he left anyway. Now he’s feeling guilty for it. I’m not guilty, at least not about that, but I… I’m too terrified to leave. If I didn’t have that same fear, I’d be with Ben right now.”

“Mm,” hummed Poe. “I’m… I’m scared of something too.”

“Poe?”

“Yeah, Rey?”

“You’re my friend. I love you, and I’m here for you, and I know you’re scared. We can talk later… but now? Please shut the fuck up.”

“Okay. I love you too.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

**———**

That morning, Finn was the first to rise. He’d slept well, and was enjoying the much needed rest, but when morning came for him, he grabbed onto it enthusiastically. He was incredibly anxious to find out how the night had gone.

He pulled his pants on, grabbed his jacket, and crawled out of his meager surplus tent. Foregoing breakfast, he peeked into Finnie’s tent to see if she was awake (she wasn’t), then left without delay. In the interests of haste, he hopped in a speeder.

The deal had been, he would check on them in the morning. Poe had a comlink, and was supposed to have contacted him if anything went wrong, but either way, Finn had to make sure.

All of this effort was to make sure Ben didn’t get sucked into some dark pit in his sleep. So Rey had to stay up all night monitoring his dreams, and Poe had to stay up all night making sure Rey could do that without consequence. Finn’s only job was to sleep well, and be coherent in the morning. He thought his job sounded relatively easy, but with the amount of adrenaline he felt pumping through his blood, he wasn’t so sure.

The house looked perfectly serene when he pulled up to it. Hopping anxiously out of the speeder, he walked briskly up to the door and shoved aside the curtain. No one in the kitchen. He picked the door to the left: Rey and Ben’s room.

Carefully, he grabbed the knob, but stopped immediately in his tracks before turning it. His mind flitted to the irony that this mishmash of a home had five doors, and the one most traditionally tasked with keeping people out, the front door, was the only one not made of wood or metal. When they’d expanded this house, they’d used materials from the base, but they’d never bothered to upgrade the front door from its meager canvas curtain. They’d made no effort to improve upon _any_ of the original materials, just added to them.

The age and quality of the materials making up this home told a tidy story of the evolving nature of their life together under this roof. This door, and the bedroom, were the first things to have been added—a record of what had been their most immediate need at the time: a private space just for each other. For now, this room had a totally different purpose. Pushing it open gently, he checked up on the status of his two best friends in the world.

“Shhh, they’re sleeping!” whispered Ren, from a pile of blankets on the floor of the room. 

Looking at the bed, Finn saw Rey, lying flat on her back on top of the sheets. Her hands were resting on her belly, gently rising and falling as she snored softly. Next to her, also above the blankets, was Poe, curled up on his side, one booted foot hanging off the side of the bed, the other foot, sans boot, draped over Rey’s ankles.

Finn looked down at the little boy on the floor. “How long have you been up?” he whispered.

“Just a little while. I wanted to make sure they were okay.”

Finn nodded. “That’s great, kid. And does everything check out?”

Ren nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! Mama’s dreaming of me,” he said, beaming.

Finn smiled. “Sounds like a nice dream,” he said, taking a seat on the floor next to Ren. “And what about that one?” he asked, jutting his chin at Poe.

“He seems happier,” said Ren. “He’s dreaming about you.”


	11. Trail of Blood

**———Chapter 11: Trail of Blood———**

When he opened his eyes, the room was spinning.

Temiri could barely remember anything since dinner the previous evening. They’d ordered shaak and ale, and Temiri had peeked in on the conversations and thoughts of dozens of restaurant patrons. He vaguely remembered leaving the restaurant, but after that, his memory was basically a haze.

He sat up, and nearly folded himself in half as his momentum carried the weight of his torso forward. His body felt so much like lead that he had to throw his arms in front to brace himself against the mattress. He breathed heavily. Slowly, he pulled his legs out from under the blankets and let them fall to the floor. Standing up from the bed, he tottered unsteadily.

He was up, but he had to try really hard not to just fall right into the wall opposite the bed. He spotted his clothes from yesterday hanging off the back of the desk chair, and glanced down to assess how embarrassed he should feel. He still had his pants on. If last night was anything like this morning, Ben must have helped him out of the rest of his clothes.

Temiri could feel a wave of nausea about to overtake him, so he hurled himself toward the refresher, banging himself into about four different corners on his way there. Thankfully, he made it to the toilet in time.

 _What_ happened _to me??_ he thought dismally, his head propped up on the edge of the toilet as the last of his saliva dribbled from his lips.

Temiri pulled himself up off the refresher floor and rinsed his mouth at the sink. Studying his face in the mirror, he thought he looked ghostly. He had to pull himself together. If this was they way his whole day was going to go, then he may as well put himself back to bed—not only was this _physically_ miserable, it was _embarrassing_.

Enough of this—his mind would govern his body. Closing his eyes and willing his circulatory system into compliance, he meditated shallowly. After about a minute of breathing deeply and mentally exploring the conduits and sinews of his form, he felt more in control. Uneasy, but in control. He carefully stepped from the refresher into the main room and made his way to his pack. Besides some fresh clothes, he located a tab of metacycline to help calm his stomach and hopefully mitigate some of his vertigo.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Temiri?” It was Ben. 

“Uh, yeah Ben, I’m up. Just getting dressed! Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Are you alright?” Ben asked through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just moving a little slowly this morning. How about I meet you in the lobby after I’m all dressed and everything?”

“That’s fine, I’ll go find us some caf.”

“Okay, great!” Temiri was relieved to have a little more time to get himself together, and for his metacycline to kick in.

**———**

Working his way down the winding staircase to the lobby, Temiri could tell he still wasn’t totally back to normal, but he thought he’d at least be able to fake his way through the day reasonably believably. He didn’t really know what Ben had in mind for them in terms of his Force-dream-grandfather problem, so basically, Temiri’s personal goal was just to… be _available_.

Stepping into the lobby, he saw no sign of the clerk. Too early, maybe? Alone, he stole this moment to spin himself in the opposite direction from the way the staircase had been going—the descent had reinvigorated his dizziness, and he felt the need to ‘unwind’.

Just as he was wrapping that up, Ben stepped through the front door, a caf in each hand.

“Don’t tell me you’re examining the tapestries…” asked Ben facetiously. There were no tapestries in this lobby.

Temiri chuckled it off. “Right, that’s what I was doing. The decor in this place really inspires comprehensive observation…”

“Mmm,” said Ben, handing Temiri his caf. “Anyway, how are you this morning? You were surprisingly drunk last night.”

Temiri coughed, shrugging gently. “Well, I’ve never had alcohol before, so it’s possible it hit me a little harder than either of us would have thought.”

“Noted. Let’s stick to caf today,” he said, raising his cup a bit and inviting Temiri to a toast.

Temiri lightly tapped his cup against Ben’s and took a step toward the door, anxious to segue into a different topic. “So what did you have in mind for us today?”

“Well, I thought we’d hit the Royal Pavilion. Besides ‘follow your blood’, I don’t have a lot to go on, so anything that gets us closer to my grandmother is probably a step in the right direction.” _Also,_ he added, mentally projecting his thoughts to Temiri, _did you feel anything weird at the restaurant last night?_

Temiri felt a knot in his stomach as he tried, and failed, to discuss things telepathically. “I’m sorry, but with the lingering effects from last night, and feeling the sun on me… I just can’t talk that way right now…”

_It’s alright, just be careful with what you say out loud. Last night, scanning the room, did you notice anything weird? Yes or no._

“No. Well, sort of, but I thought I was just being jumpy.”

_What was it?_

“It’s hard to describe… Mostly, I just saw normal people having normal, inconsequential conversations. I thought I felt a… weird, sort of, _presence,_ though, but I couldn’t place its source.”

 _I felt something, too. Or, more precisely, I felt_ nothing, _coming from a particular individual in the room._

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”

 _Just,_ nothing. _Like there was a wall in between me and this other person that made it absolutely impossible to read anything from him at all. If we hadn’t been surrounded by so many other people I wouldn’t have even noticed him, but his presence was like a hole in the Force._

“Bizarre…” said Temiri. “Anything else?”

_Well, when we were leaving, we were a bit of a spectacle. Do you remember that?_

Temiri’s embarrassment returned. “No, not really. After dinner, things get a little fuzzy.”

_Well, pretty much everybody in there turned to watch us go. You were slurring and bumping into everyone and everything._

“Sorry…” mumbled Temiri. “I don’t remember that.”

_It’s alright. Anyway, this person was the only one in there who didn’t swivel in his seat to watch us leave. He kept his back to us the entire time._

“So you never…” _...got a good look at him?_ Temiri said, managing to communicate the last part covertly.

 _No. I had us take a convoluted route back to the hotel, so hopefully, if there_ was _anything nefarious about him, he wasn’t able to track us back there._

“Weird. So, uh…” _…how did the_ rest _of the night go?_

… _Fine. I saw Rey. She took care of everything. Nothing to report._

“That’s good,” was all Temiri could say. Besides the obvious concern about what might’ve taken place in Ben’s subconscious during the night, he’d been wondering what else Ben might choose to volunteer about his or Ben’s own behavior—Temiri couldn’t remember a damn thing that took place since dinner. He wasn’t sure how he should interpret Ben’s terseness.

Along the way to the pavilion, they stopped at a food stand to get a light breakfast they could eat on the way. Temiri did his best to choke it down, but had no real appetite this morning. He didn’t know if it was the state he was in, or the food itself, but to him, it tasted like ash. Pasty ash.

By the time they had finished their meager breakfasts, they were within sight of the Royal Pavilion. A stunning campus of graceful, elegant buildings, public art and commemorative monuments; manicured landscaping stretched out before them, every inch designed intentionally to play up the grandeur of the structures themselves. Diplomats, tourists, and local residents alike roamed the grounds savoring the breathtaking scenery. Ben and Temiri were free to peruse the area without drawing any special attention.

“Are we really here to wander around like tourists?” asked Temiri, somewhat skeptically.

Ben kept his tone confidential. “Not especially, but remember, we don’t really know what we’re looking for. Keep your senses sharp.” _My grandmother was Padmé Amidala, so if you see anything relating to her, or to my mother, take a closer look._

Temiri nodded, and kept his eyes open. Every plaque and every statue was given that extra bit of scrutiny. Ironically, it was thanks to his near-sighted focus that he didn’t see the most out-of-place thing in the entire area.

“Is that what you saw with Simeon?” asked Ben, pointing at a building off in the distance. 

Temiri looked up and stared out to where Ben was pointing. On the wall of a large, rectangular building on the outskirts of the pavilion, was a thick, black circle painted on the wall, inside of which was a crudely drawn dragon’s head.

“Yes!” shouted Temiri, before calming himself. “That’s _exactly_ what we kept seeing!”

“Let’s check it out,” said Ben.

They carved as direct a route through the gardens as they could on their way over to what was, relatively speaking, a very plain building—less adorned than the others, very utilitarian. The structure was built for its function, not its form.

When they got closer, Temiri read the sign aloud, “Hall of Records.”

“This isn’t a tourist destination,” Ben replied. “At least, that’s not what it was _built_ for. This is a government building.”

“Ew,” said Temiri. “Are we going in?”

“This building may have been targeted for vandalism for a reason. Besides, it could be a good place to learn about my grandmother, don’t you think?”

Temiri sighed. “I guess. It just sounds boring, that’s all.”

“The Hall of Records isn’t just a library of musty old documents,” said a pleasant voice from just outside the front entrance of the building. “It’s a museum of our history. A vivid tapestry of the rich saga that is Naboo’s people, its culture, and its contributions to the galaxy as a whole.”

They turned to look at the man. He was dressed in official-looking garb. “Do you work here?” asked Ben.

“Yes, sir, I do. I invite you to come and enjoy our fascinating displays. Immerse yourselves in the history of the native Gungans and of humans’ first colonies on this beautiful land. You can also learn about the drama of the many royals duly elected to represent the Naboo people. Here in Theed, we put our pride on display.”

“Thank you,” said Ben. “I think we’ll do just that. Let’s go,” he added to Temiri, jerking his head toward the entrance of the blocky building.

Stepping inside, the beauty and atmosphere of the courtyard was a mere memory. The interior of the Hall of Records was clinical—bright white lights, angular features, and sparse decor. The foyer looked more like the waiting area in front of a turbolift than what you’d expect from something billed as a museum. Past the foyer, the building was divided into several large chambers where historical tableaus were on display, illuminated naturally by dizzyingly high glass-domed ceilings. These chambers were connected via low-ceilinged hallways featuring a half-dozen locked doors—offices, most likely.

The first of these chambers was dedicated to the human colonization of Naboo. In the center of the vast room was a rectangular pictorial display featuring photographs of artifacts, artists’ renderings of events, and samples of ancient parchments. Glowing panels describing the narrative histories were easily readable even under the low lights.

Human colonization is estimated to have begun during the year 3900 BBY; a thorough perusal of everything on display would have taken hours.

“No thank you,” said Ben to himself, heading for the far door. Temiri followed behind, a little sad not to get to read more about what he was seeing—Naboo’s “Elders” had been a point of interest to him since learning a little about them on his last visit here a few days ago.

The Hall of Records was not a particularly huge tourist draw, and the further in they went, the emptier it became. Most tourists who entered did so out of a sense of exploration, but left once they saw what was there to explore. The second large chamber, dedicated to the formation of the Old Republic on Naboo beginning in 1000 BBY, held only two tourists, who were already leaving.

Like the first chamber, Ben gave it a cursory reading, then proceeded to the next one.

The third chamber, completely empty of visitors, discussed the rise of the Empire. Ben slowed his pace as he decided to give these displays greater attention, dragging his finger along the panels as he skimmed their contents. _My grandmother was front and center during the fall of the Republic and the rise of the Empire. We’re likely to find her name in here somewhere. Keep your eyes open._

Temiri nodded and paid closer attention, hoping to be the first to spot whatever Easter egg would prove important to their investigation. Trying not be as focused on up-close details as he’d been earlier when he missed the obvious dragon head on this building, he dedicated himself to looking more broadly around the room first. His adrenaline spiked when he saw something decidedly out of place.

“Ben, look there,” he whispered, pointing at a display toward the far end of the room.

Ben’s eyes darted to where Temiri had indicated, and to his surprise, found that an entire section of the history on this subject had been haphazardly painted over in black. Vandalism like that typically warranted the closure of an exhibition, but there appeared to have been no attempt yet made to clean it up. 

In each room so far, there had been a solitary attendant standing unobtrusively in observation—Ben addressed the attendant in this chamber. “What is the meaning of that vandalism?” he said.

“Oh, my apologies, sir. There are those on Naboo that are ashamed of this planet’s connection to the former Emperor, Sheev Palpatine. They blacked out our display depicting his rise to power after the failure of the Republic.”

Ben wandered over to that end of the room so he could see exactly what it was that had been painted over. Temiri started to follow, but had to pause. It felt like perhaps his metacycline was wearing off—his vertigo was making a comeback.

As he got closer, Ben was able to read portions of the display on Palpatine. The photographs of him had escaped vandalism, and the story of his upbringing on Naboo and subsequent training in the Force was told without redactions. Ben found the narrative to be a fair, objective accounting of what the facts of his life had been. It was his later years that bore the brunt of the vandalism. Ben ran his finger across the painted surface, and found the paint to be dry—not at all wet or tacky. This vandalism had been here for at least a day, plenty of time for the staff here to have had it removed. 

Some of the paint had oozed down the sloped panels to the point that it left thicker and thinner patches of coverage before it had dried. In the places where it was thinner, the backlighting broke through and allowed some of the words to be visible through the paint. Words like _traitor, evil, twisted,_ and _murderer._

Ben looked back at the attendant, who met his eyes with a steady gaze. Ben focused his attention, reading the man. He was a blank slate.

“Who are you?” he asked the attendant, eyes narrowed. “Why are you lying to me?”

It was at this exact moment that Temiri’s metacycline finally crapped out. Doubling over, Temiri braced himself against the panel with one hand, and his other hand moved reflexively toward his mouth as he proceeded to vomit all over the story of Sheev Palpatine. Momentarily out for the count, he was absolutely no help to Ben when the attendant lunged at him.

Ben wasn’t unprepared, but his attention _was_ divided between his attacker on one hand, and his sick apprentice on the other. As he evaded the lunge from the attendant, he moved himself closer to Temiri and shoved him away from their assailant. Temiri fell backward, out of range of any attack, but laid out on his back and too dizzy to stand up.

The attendant brandished a long dagger. Crouching low, he circled around Ben, looking for an opening to strike.

Ben kept his body between Temiri and the attendant, and his hand moved swiftly to his waist. Without missing a beat, he pulled his lightsaber from his belt and ignited the blade, moving into a defensive stance.

Temiri had never seen Ben’s lightsaber ignited before, but he knew Ben’s history. He knew he had trained as a Jedi under his uncle, the legendary Luke Skywalker, but that he had abandoned that path to study the Dark Side of the Force. When he had first met Rey, he wielded a weapon that reflected that Darkness. This could not have been the same weapon.

With a proud and persistent hum, Ben’s brilliant white blade arced upward and into the personal space of his assailant. The attendant feinted to the right, dodging the attack, but he had missed his window to do Ben any harm—he couldn’t possibly land a blow against a man with the reach of Ben’s lightsaber.

By now, the attendant had circled far enough around Ben that Ben’s back was to the door at the far end of the chamber. Temiri’s head had stopped spinning, but he was still barely able to follow the action. However, from his place on the floor, he could see the door through Ben’s legs, and noted the incoming reinforcements.

“Ben, behind you!” he gurgled.

The second assailant possessed the same sort of dagger as the first, and he was coming straight for Ben. With assailants on either side of him, and a vulnerable apprentice splayed out on the floor at his feet, Ben was very limited in his offensive options. He kept his rear side intentionally open, hoping to draw in the new attacker as he broadcast his attention on the first. 

The new attacker took the bait, lunging with his dagger into Ben’s lower back. Anticipating this assault, Ben immediately whirled on him, taking his arm off with a fluid slash. The attacker cried out in pain as his arm and his dagger clattered to the floor.

Temiri had been left unguarded when Ben switched targets, but rather than go for the easy kill on the floor, the attendant came at Ben from behind. In defense of his teacher, Temiri found his feet and swiftly drew his own lightsaber. Before he could even see what had hit him, the attendant was cut in half, his torso and lower body collapsing into a heap on the Hall of Records floor. From the rear door, more attackers were arriving.

“Temiri! To the exit!” Ben shouted as he ran past Temiri, seizing him by the arm to pull him along. They had no way of knowing how many more attackers were set to pour forth from the back of the chamber. Ben made the decision that if they stuck around too much longer, they would find themselves overwhelmed. Ben and Temiri retraced their steps out of the Hall of Records as quickly as they could.

Temiri’s adrenaline had cleared his head somewhat, but he was afraid that if he looked back while he was running that a sudden dizzy spell might bring him to his knees, so he kept his eyes forward as he ran. On their way out of the vast building, they encountered no one. Once the door to the outside finally presented itself, Ben started to slow down.

“Stop running!” commanded Ben. _Let’s try not to make a scene when we get outside!_

Temiri couldn’t help scoffing, but did as he was asked. They passed through the modest entryway and into the noonday sun, and it was instantly as if they were in another world. Back among the diplomats, tourists and citizens calmly eating their lunches in the scenic pavilion, the outside world was utterly ignorant to the violence that had ensued just inside. No attackers pursued them into the light of day. Even the attendant who had greeted them at the entrance was absent.

The two men walked briskly away from the Hall of Records, trying to catch their breath. Once they had put some distance between themselves and the building, Ben gestured toward a park bench and made a move to sit down.

“Let’s sit for a minute,” said Ben, looking uncomfortable. “Are you alright?”

Temiri nodded. “I feel a bit better now. Sorry about that. I had taken some metacycline this morning, but I think it wore off.”

_I think you were drugged, is what happened._

“What??” said Temiri in disbelief. _Are you sure?_

Ben nodded. _I thought it was weird that one ale could get you so plastered and leave you so sick the next day. The fact that you don’t have much of a memory from last night is another red flag._

 _But why would anyone want to poison_ me? _Do you think maybe_ you _were the real target?_

Ben shrugged. _No idea… but these ‘Black Dragons’_ _are clearly assholes. Definitely fucking with us…_

Temiri glanced back at the Hall of Records. Even from this distance, the dragon symbol was still visible against the white stone of the angular building.

_You’re sure that was them in there? Why would a group of Sith acolytes be hanging out in a municipal building?_

_I think they were setting a fucking trap for us, is what. There were Sith runes on those blades…_ Ben winced, and moved his hand to his side. Temiri looked at Ben, and finally noticed that his lower back was wet with blood.

“They _stabbed_ you!?” he blurted out accidentally.

“Shhh!” Ben admonished. _Yes. That fucking attendant got me right before you cut him in half._

_Holy shit! Are you alright? Do I need to do anything?_

_I have a medkit back at the hotel. I’ll be alright. I can make it back there._

Temiri glanced at the ground, at the drops of blood marking the path they had taken. _I think we may need to do something sooner than that,_ he remarked.

_Dammit. Alright… Tear your sleeve off._

Temiri briefly wondered why it was _his_ sleeve that Ben required for his field dressing, but figured this was one of those questions he was better off not giving voice to. He complied with Ben’s request, and carefully pried the stitching apart on the left sleeve of his cloak.

Ben’s hand moved to his belt, and out from a small pouch at his waist he produced a small knife and proceeded to use it to cut the sleeve into two long strips.

 _I suppose that’s more practical than using your lightsaber…_ projected Temiri

_Indeed. Why use a thermal detonator if a rock can get the job done?_

Temiri gave a small laugh. _Ben,_ he asked, _how… how is it that your lightsaber is white?_

 _Give me your other sleeve,_ he said, not answering Temiri’s question.

Temiri sighed, and jerked his other sleeve loose from his cloak. He didn’t know if Ben had deliberately deflected the question, but he didn’t want to let it go. _Can you tell me?_ he prodded.

Ben nodded, removing his own cloak as he prepared to affix his field patch. He tied the two strips together into one long one and wrapped it around his abdomen. _I healed the crystal. Rey helped me._

 _What do you mean you_ ‘healed’ _it?_

Ben didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on getting his knot tied properly. _My crystal had been bled. That’s what gives a lightsaber its red color_ — _well,_ one _of the ways they get that color_ _. You bleed the crystal by feeding it with your hate, your despair, your vengeance… By doing this, you defeat the crystal and turn it into a weapon of the Dark._

 _Shit…_ said Temiri. _That must be incredibly… unpleasant for it._

 _It is,_ lamented Ben. _I cracked mine, when I did it._ _But Rey and I, we studied the Jedi texts together, and we learned how to heal a bled crystal. It… has better resonance now._

Ben was nearly finished with his field dressing. The bleeding was staunched, for now. “I think we can go,” said Ben, gingerly testing the patch to make sure it wasn’t about to come loose.

Temiri nodded, and stood up from the bench. Mercifully, he was vertigo-free. Ben stood up as well, but more slowly.

“You gonna be okay?” asked Temiri.

Ben nodded. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get back to the hotel. We can talk more there.”

**———**

Inside the Hall of Records, Lonâm was fuming. His phantom limb tickled him, but even worse than that was the loss of his comrade, his protégé, Zrirus. Killed. Cut down by that Jedi whelp. 

He would be avenged. 

 _He’s going to pay,_ thought Lonâm. _They both will. Master will see to the Skywalker, but the boy… the boy will be mine._

A smile crept upon Lonâm’s face as he pondered the blade in front of him. The length of the ceremonial dagger was lined with small holes, and they had fulfilled their purpose. With his good arm, and a steady pipette, Lonâm drew the blood from the pools.


	12. Sustenance

**———Chapter 12: Sustenance———**

By the time they’d made it back to their hotel, Ben was looking a little peaked. They had managed to avoid leaving a trail of blood behind them as they walked, but he had soaked through the field dressing and his clothes were getting more stained with every step he took. Ben was too proud to ask for help, but Temiri could tell he was having trouble keeping steady.

They trudged up the three flights of stairs and approached Ben’s door. Leaning into the wall, Ben struggled getting the keycard into the slot, and it slipped from his fingers. 

“I got it,” said Temiri as he scooped it up nonchalantly. He then shoved the door open and stepped back for Ben to enter. 

Ben practically dragged his feet as he stepped through the threshold and toward the desk where his pack was located. He collapsed into the chair, breathing heavily and sweating profusely, fumbling with the ties on his pack.

Temiri stepped up to finagle the ties open the rest of the way, and assumed responsibility for locating the needed items.

“Where exactly is your medkit?” he asked.

“Bottom,” Ben grunted.

 _Figures_ , lamented Temiri, working his way through Ben’s underwear to reach the medkit crammed into the bottom of the sack. Pulling it out, he set it in front of Ben, who opened it without delay.

He selected several items from the kit, and then got to work removing his soiled clothing.

“Find me a new shirt?” he asked, letting the bloody remains of Temiri’s sleeves fall to the floor. While Temiri rooted around once again in Ben’s pack, Ben tried, unsuccessfully, to apply the laser cauterizer to his injury.

“Hold on, will you? You don’t have to do all this crap yourself, you know,” chastised Temiri. Having found a clean shirt, he set it down on the table and took the cauterizer from Ben’s hand. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Ben asked.

“Well, I’ve never used one of these before, but I understand the principle. My hands are steadier than yours, at least,” he said, crouching to get a better view of Ben’s injury.

Temiri tested the instrument by aiming it at the floor, and was satisfied by the strength of the beam it emitted—enough to burn a line into the floor, but not enough to set it on fire. He aimed it at Ben’s stab wound and activated it once again.

Ben winced as the laser went to work. Slowly, Temiri worked his way along the gash, sealing the blood vessels as he went.

“Ow, fuck!” exclaimed Ben as Temiri veered slightly off-course.

“Sorry,” he apologized, repositioning himself. “This is an awkward angle…”

“It’s fine. Done?” he asked, as Temiri deactivated the laser.

“Yeah, no more bleeding. Now what?” he asked.

“Now this,” said Ben, and he applied some bacta spray to the wound, then secured a patch over the top of it. “And now… food.”

Temiri let out a sigh of gratitude. Besides the ashy breakfast he’d since deposited all over Sheev Palpatine’s smug face, he’d eaten nothing today. He was _starving._ “Why don’t I go out and pick us up some food?” he suggested.

Ben frowned. “Well, it’s that, or we dive into the emergency cube concentrates I brought along…”

Temiri was flabbergasted. _Ben actually brought snacks??_

“I’m not crazy about the idea of you going out on your own… We _were_ just attacked,” said Ben.

Temiri would not be deterred—he was finally feeling really useful. “I’ll be fine, Ben, really. It’s just lunch, I can handle myself.”

“You’re sure? You’re not still feeling the effects of whatever toxin they poisoned you with?”

Temiri shook his head vigorously. “No, absolutely not. I’m totally back to normal. I just needed a good adrenaline rush.” 

Ben paused, considering. “Alright then,” he said, sighing. “I’m fucking exhausted… I appreciate not having to go anywhere.”

“You bet,” said Temiri proudly. “You rest up. I’ll be back before you know it.”

**———**

The door clicked shut, and as Temiri’s footsteps receded from his room, Ben was left with only the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears to keep him company. There were no mirrors outside of the refresher, but just looking down at his own pasty flesh assured him that his blood volume was dangerously low. He felt light-headed.

 _I need some water,_ he thought to himself. He briefly considered just sitting tight and waiting for Temiri to return with their lunches rather than try to get up, but dismissed that thought as overly cautious. He could make it to the refresher and back without incident. 

Bracing himself on the edge of the desk, Ben pushed up with his legs and stood up from the chair. He felt himself swoon a little bit, his vision darkening momentarily as the head rush took hold. He allowed himself a few seconds for his vision to clear, then lifted his hands from the desk and took his first tentative steps toward the refresher.

One step at a time, he edged closer to the refresher door.  _ See? No problem, _ he thought as he got nearer and nearer. About halfway there, however, things took a turn. He felt a crippling pain in his back, and immediately, the darkness returned to his vision, and his legs gave out beneath him. By the time he realized he was on the floor, he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten there. He tried to remember, but found himself unable to hold an idea together. The last thought he had before completely blacking out was how the dust bunnies looked just like falling snow as they drifted to the floor in front of his nose.

**———**

_Ben, is that you?_

Ben looked around, but there was nothing to see. And no eyes to see with. _Fuck,_ he thought. Had he been in his body, his heart would be pounding—he’d fallen unconscious. That was his grandfather’s voice.

_Ben, you’re asleep a little earlier than normal. Is everything okay? You’re doing wonderfully, by the way. You’ve almost found me. I might be spared, thanks to you._

Ben was waiting for the impending sense of doom to overtake him. The noise. Something. But there was nothing. There was the piercing blackness, yes, but the terror he’d come to expect… didn’t manifest.

_Do things seem less dire than usual? Yes, that makes sense, Ben. There is less urgency now. You’re doing so well. Just a little longer, and we’ll be together._

Just like the other times, Ben couldn’t really interact with his grandfather beyond whatever psychic link they shared that allowed Anakin to sense his thoughts. Intellectually, Ben wanted to _converse._ If he could just ask some questions, he might know enough to get this wrapped up that much faster. To get home to Rey.

_Who is that you’re thinking of? Your wife? Is she the one you are bonded to by the Force? I was expecting her to be here, looking out for you. Where is she? She is quite impressive… You’ve done well there, too._

Ben couldn’t deny feeling just the slightest sense of pride at Anakin’s words, but that pride was mixed with discomfort—discomfort that Rey had become the subject of conversation. He thought he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, but knew it had to be his imagination.

_You need to tell her to help you. You’re bleeding internally, you know. She is powerful with the Light. She can heal you, yes? We need her to heal you…_

Bleeding internally? Ben realized that must have been why he’d fallen unconscious. He’d probably been stabbed in his kidney, and his insides were filling with uncirculated blood, making this a much more serious injury than he’d previously considered. He _did_ need Rey.

 _Good. She_ can _heal you. That’s wonderful, we need her to do that. After she’s healed you, come see me again. And bring her along, please. I’d be delighted to meet her…_

**———**

Naboo had never looked more beautiful to him.

As he scouted the side streets and back alleys of Theed looking for suitable lunches for Ben and himself, Temiri practically skipped. He had proven his mettle to Ben. He was a _master_. When it truly mattered, Temiri had demonstrated that he could keep his cool, and dominate his enemies in battle. _He had carved that motherfucker in half._

He had never felt so powerful in his life. 

 _If I hadn’t been here, Ben would be dead. Either those Black Dragons would’ve killed him right then, or he’d have bled to death on his way back to the hotel._ Fuck, _I’m awesome._

Temiri could barely keep the self-satisfied grin off his face as he walked. Realizing people were actually looking at him curiously over his inexplicable happiness, he worked harder to govern his emotions before approaching the door to the take-out stand on his left.

“What can I get you?” asked the proprietor of the modest eatery, in lieu of a proper greeting. Ben had picked the slummiest part of Theed to make their headquarters, so Temiri wasn’t surprised not to be lavished with saccharine pleasantries—as long as the menu options were sweeter.

Temiri was feeling celebratory. “What’s your best dish?” he asked, leaning his arm on the edge of the counter.

“Uhhh,” the man grumbled in response. Leaning backward, he shouted over his shoulder into the back room of the eatery. He was speaking in Naboo, so Temiri had no idea what he was saying. 

A woman’s voice shouted back at him, also in Naboo. There was a brief exchange between the two during which the man taking Temiri’s order gesticulated impatiently in his direction. Temiri grew suspicious of what they were saying.

Finally, the man returned to Basic, answering Temiri’s original question. “Our best food is Gungan stew and tlickweed. It’s what all the fancy diplomats are eating in the palace. You want I should order you up a whole bunch of that?”

Temiri narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me,” he said. “You’re just trying to unload your cheapest crap on me because the profit margins are wide and I look like an ignorant tourist. I’m just here for a good meal, and I expect your cooperation with that.” Temiri set his hands on his hips, pushing back his cloak so that the hilt of his lightsaber was visible on his belt.

The host stiffened, but was immediately much more accommodating. “Sorry sir, I should’ve known you wouldn’t fall for that. We can cook up some sardine fritters that are actually the best in town, and we even have some five blossom bread fresh from this morning. How does that grab you?”

“That sounds much better, thank you,” said Temiri, lowering his cloak and lacing his fingers back on the counter.

“Just to show what a good guy I am, how about I throw in some Karlini tea? It’s a local specialty.”

“Perfect,” said Temiri. “Two of everything.”

“You got it. That’ll be just a few minutes. Wait right here.” The man stepped back into the shadows of his kitchen and got to work making good on Temiri’s order. Temiri stepped away from the counter and looked back, into the surroundings of this corner of Theed. 

“Where there is light, there is shadow,” he muttered, contemplating the relatively seedy underbelly of what was arguably one of the most beautiful planets in this quadrant. He wasn’t terribly worldly, but he was savvy and well-educated. He felt a measure of pride that he could navigate both types of environment.

It wasn’t long before the man returned with Temiri’s order. “That’ll be eighty-one credits, please,” he said, offering up two bags of food.

Immediately, Temiri seized up—he didn’t have any money. He had completely forgotten that Ben had their credit card, and Temiri carried no cash of his own. He swallowed his embarrassment.

 _“I don’t need to pay you for this,”_ he said with conviction, pointing his chin at the proprietor of the dive eatery.

The man stared back blankly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to pay me for this,” he said.

“That’s right, I don’t.” Temiri took the bags of food and strode confidently back to his hotel.

**———**

Rey rolled over and draped her arm over the warm lump lying next to her in bed. In her sleep-addled state, she didn’t immediately register that the curly black hair she was nuzzling into was not Ben’s, and the realization brought with it a sudden freak-out that succeeded in rattling her fully awake.

“Shit,” Rey said, pulling away abruptly. “Sorry, Poe. Crap, that’s disorienting…” She slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes and untwisting her legs from Poe’s.

Poe was laid out on his stomach, his right arm curled up underneath him and his left dusting the floor. He murmured in response, but was still basically asleep.

Rey looked around trying to gauge what time it was. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to waking up in the middle of the day. Back on Jakku, there were times when it got so hot that it was unsafe to venture outside. On those days, she would salvage at night when it was cooler and sleep through the daylight hours. What was different now that made day-sleeping so much harder?

 _Maybe I’m just getting old,_ she thought facetiously as she pulled herself up from the mattress. She heard noises coming from outside, so she rounded the foot of the bed and looked out her bedroom window, overlooking the lake. 

She watched quietly as Finn, Finnie, and her son splashed playfully in the water. Ren couldn’t really swim yet, but he had climbed on Finn’s back as Finn waded around in the water, Ren and Finnie exchanging splashes. It was refreshing to see Finn letting loose a little bit, just being a dad.

Rey thought of Rose, and her stomach dropped. Yesterday had been the one-year anniversary of Rose’s death, and Rey had totally forgotten about it. She had been so wrapped up in seeing Ben off that the day had gone by completely unacknowledged. And what about Finn? He had given the day entirely to them. 

Intellectually, she knew that the distraction of her and Ben’s problems were probably a welcome diversion from the self-pity and depression Finn would otherwise have succumbed to, but she still felt guilty. She worried about what would happen when Finn realized he had been too preoccupied to note the anniversary.

Sighing, Rey turned away from the window and assessed her sleeping companion. Poe snored softly into her pillow. She laughed inwardly at the thought of Ben finding Poe in her bed. In an alternate universe, Ben would have murdered him immediately upon discovery. In this one, Ben might just cut his dick off and then pause to ask questions—murder optional. He’d come such a long way… 

**———**

Kicking the door open, Temiri announced his triumphant return. “Ben! I’m back, and I—”

Temiri froze, stunned by the sight of Ben’s body lying unmoving on the floor of his room. Suddenly, he flung the bags of food to the floor and dropped to his knees to see to Ben.

“Ben!” he shouted, turning him over onto his back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Wake up, Ben! Dammit!!” Shaking him, Temiri started to panic when it looked like Ben wasn’t going to snap out of it. 

He ran to Ben’s pack and rifled around in it, trying to find the comlink. After what seemed like ages of hunting, he felt a hard knot in the bag and was relieved to discover the device. Desperately, he put in a call to the school.


	13. In Memoriam

**———Chapter 13: In Memoriam———**

_Come on, fucking answer!_ he thought, as he waited for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, someone at the school answered his call. “Ben, is that you?” It was Shiroto.

“Shiroto! Shit, I’m glad you answered! I need help! Ben is unconscious and I can’t wake him up! I need you to get Rey!”

“Temiri? Shit, hold on! I’ll get her, just hang on a second!”

Temiri dropped the comlink and ran back to Ben on the floor. He was pale, and his skin was clammy and cold. He was breathing, but far too shallowly.

 _Shit, shit, shit…_ He didn’t know what to do.

Moments later, he nearly leapt out of his skin when Rey appeared right next to him, a hand on Ben’s chest.

“Rey, thank god! That was fast!” he shouted.

“It’s alright Temiri, I’m here,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”

“Earlier, when we were out, we were attacked, and Ben got stabbed in the back! We made it back here and patched him up, and we thought everything was okay, so I went out to get us some food. When I got back just a minute ago, I found him lying here unconscious, and I can’t get him to wake up!”

Rey laid a reassuring hand on Temiri’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I can help. Help me turn him back onto his stomach so I can see his wound.” Temiri obliged, though his hands were shaking. 

Looking at his back, Rey saw the bacta patch and peeled it away. The edges of the wound remained cauterized, but blood had begun to leak out from deeper inside the gash. In stark contrast to the pasty color of the rest of his body, the skin around the wound was a dark, purplish-red from the blood pooling under the surface.

“Okay, I see now. Just give me a little space,” she said. Temiri sat back on his heels and watched as Rey took control, utterly calm and composed. She closed her eyes, and laid her hand to the injury at Ben’s back. Just inhaling and exhaling slowly, it didn’t look to Temiri like she was really doing much of anything at all, but after a few moments, Ben began to stir.

“Man, I’d forgotten how much that burns…” he mumbled, face pressed into the dusty hotel room floor.

Rey smiled. “Feeling better?” she asked.

“Mmm, thank you,” he said, turning his face toward her, but making no other move to pull himself up off the floor. “This asshole stabbed me…” he said, slurring his words a bit.

“Yes, Temiri gave me the ten-second version,” she said.

With some effort, Ben pushed himself up and onto his backside, leaning uncomfortably into the wall next to the refresher door. He was still pale and a little disoriented. Rey had healed his wound, but she hadn’t replenished him of his lost blood. “I felt him… he said you would heal me. He wants to… meet you…” he muttered, his eyelids drooping.

Rey cocked her head, not sure what to make of this development. Should she be worried that he’d had one of his dark encounters, or glad that he’d made it out without her help? “Ben, are you alright? Did he touch you?”

“I have no body,” he groaned, shaking his head slowly. “Can’t touch…”

She had made sure to keep physical contact with Ben so she could remain communicative with Temiri. She looked at him and said, “He’s delirious from blood loss. He needs rest, and fluids. Do what you can to get him to eat and drink. A stimpak might help him build up his blood volume a little bit. Just don’t let him go to sleep unless I’m here.”

“What’s your direct comm code, in case I need to call you again?” he asked.

“Give me your comlink—I’ll just dial it in now.”

He’d left his own comlink in his room when he went out that morning, so he handed her Ben’s. She input her personal code so all he would have to do next time was just open the channel.

Ben was still looking a little out of it, but with Temiri’s help, he was able to get to his feet. As long as he was touching Ben, Rey could see the both of them. Once Temiri had Ben safely back in his bed, she bid them farewell.

“Thank you for looking out for him, Temiri. I knew I could count on you,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

“No problem,” he said. “I’m glad I could help. I’ll keep an eye on him until it’s time for sleep, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure you will, Temiri. I love you. Take care.”

Temiri blushed, struggling to maintain eye contact. “I love you too—Rey.” As much as he knew he should have thought of her as family, he was, in fact, closer to her in age than Ben was. Exchanging “I love you’s” was hard for him.

With a parting nod, Rey vanished, leaving Temiri completely in awe. To be bonded to someone by the Force—amazing. Turning back to his bewildered teacher-father, Temiri sighed, and went to collect their lunch from up off the hotel room floor.

**———**

“So he got stabbed?” asked Finn, taking a bite of fruit.

“Yes, apparently,” said Rey, chewing. She took a sip of water from her glass to wash down the last of the fish that Malfi had generously prepared for their lunch—or Rey’s breakfast, depending on how you looked at it.

“And you don’t know how?” asked Poe, incredulous.

“Look, I know I make it look easy,” she said, somewhat facetiously, “but it actually takes a lot of energy to establish and maintain those visions—not to mention, I’d just healed him, which is _also_ very taxing. I only just woke up an hour ago, I didn’t want to completely drain my batteries getting the long version of the story from Temiri while Ben was sitting there, delirious from blood loss.”

“Okay, point taken,” he conceded. “I’m just dying to know how that could’ve happened.”

“Me too, but I figured I’d just get it out of him when I see him in his dreams tonight,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t remember anything when you guys talk in your dreams?” said Finn.

 _“He_ doesn’t remember. I do.”

“Remember,” Poe said, poking his fork in Rey’s direction, “she’s not actually asleep when they’re doing their thing.”

“Riiiight,” said Finn, nodding. “So we have to wait until tomorrow for the whole story. Lame…”

“‘Fraid so,” she said. “So who’s going to keep me company tonight, anyway? Finn? Is it your turn? Or is it better if you stay with Finnie back at the school?”

“Nah, Finnie doesn’t need me,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. He glanced off in the direction where Finnie, Ren, and Malfi were playing together in the field on the other side of the lake. “She’s so tough. I don’t know where that kid gets her wisdom from. She made it through yesterday without so much as a tear, but it’s not like she’s repressing it either. She’s just… taking everything in stride.”

Rey and Poe exchanged glances. Evidently, the anniversary hadn’t escaped _anyone_ else’s attention, in spite of it not having been explicitly called it out.

“Finn,” said Rey, slowly, “I’m really sorry if yesterday, it seemed like—”

“—like you were hogging up all my mental space?” he asked, waving her off. “It’s not a thing. I got to spend the anniversary honoring Rose in the absolute best way possible.”

Rey perked up a little, curious. “Oh? What did you do?”

With a glimmer in his eye, he answered, “I got to spend it feeling like I was saving the ones I love.”

**———**

That evening, the six of them—three adults, three kids—spent their time together enjoying good conversation, good food, and sharing personal talents. Finn and Finnie took turns teaching some intermediate sword-fighting techniques to Malfi while Ren watched in wonder, Malfi regaled Finnie and Ren with her knowledge of the history of the Jedi Order and the nature of the Force, and Poe taught Finn and Rey how to play Dantooine double-hand.

“I think you’re cheating,” said Rey to Poe.

“I would never try to cheat at cards,” said Poe. “Least of all against someone who might try to murder me with her mind.”

“I would never _try_ to murder you, with or with _out_ my mind—there is no ‘try’,” she joked.

“Yeah,” said Finn. “Besides, she could just use her Force powers to see into your hand,” he teased.

“I wouldn’t do that either,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“But you _could_ do _both_ of those things, yet here we are, playing with you anyway. If I can trust you, you ought to be able to trust me,” said Poe.

“There’s so much trust at this table, it’s positively wholesome,” said Finn.

“Much more of this sweetness, and we’ll all get diabetes…” joked Poe.

“Dad?” said Finnie, approaching the table with Ren and Malfi in tow, “Malfi and I think we want to head back now. We’ve been here almost all day.”

“Sure, sweetie, you can do that. I think I’m on Rey-duty tonight, though, so is it fine if I stay here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said. “Rey, is it okay if Ren comes back with us?”

Rey was surprised by the question, but entertained the notion. She looked at her son, “Ren? You want to spend the night with Finnie and Malfi?”

“Yeah, mom, we’re having so much fun! Finnie is really amazing,” he said. Finnie smiled with modest incredulity. 

Rey looked back at Finnie and Malfi. “You really want him in your tent with you? Two girls and a five-year-old boy?”

Finnie shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“You’ll be okay without me, mama. Right?” Ren asked.

“Of course, honey, I’ll be fine. I’ve got Finn here to watch out for me.”

“Yay! Okay, I’m just gonna get my stuff!” With that, Ren ran into the house, emerging again a moment later with his pajamas and his favorite blanket. “See you tomorrow! Good night, Uncle Finn! Good night, Uncle Poe!”

“‘Night, kids,” called Finn after him. The three children walked together back to the school in what remained of the evening light, Ren running circles around them as they went.

“‘Uncle Poe’… Your kids are pretty cool,” said Poe as he watched them recede from view. “Thanks for inviting me to tag along in your lives for a few days. It’s been… eye opening.”

“It’s our pleasure,” said Rey. “And since it appears I have a spare bed in the house, would you like to crash here tonight?” she invited.

Poe perked up. “And stay out of the tents? Hell, yes!” he cried.

“Great, then why don’t we start cleaning up. I’m sure Ben will be needing me soon.” The three friends packed up their cards and their snacks and they readied themselves for a long night.

**———**

Finn and Poe decided to take a walk around the lake to give Rey and Ben a touch of privacy before beginning their long night of watchdogging. Night had fallen, and pretty soon, everyone would need to do the responsible thing and rest their bodies to keep their minds sharp for whatever might come at them. This wouldn’t be a long diversion, but everyone was deserving of a little time for private conversation.

“Finn? Do you think it’s weird?” Poe asked, casually swinging his legs through the lakeshore grass as they walked together under a moonlit sky.

“Do I think _what’s_ weird?”

“That they named him ‘Ren’.”

“Why would that be weird?”

“Well, I mean… ‘Kylo Ren’ was the bad guy. Ben Solo is the good guy. Why would two people get together and name their kid after their evil alter ego?”

In his bones, Finn felt he knew the answer to this question, but he’d never taken the time to put it into words. He considered his ability to formulate an answer to it as fundamental to justifying his own existence—if he couldn’t explain the meaning of Ren Solo, then who, or what, was “Finn”?

“I think it’s about the past,” he said, getting his thoughts in order.

“Okay, but it’s not like they named him ‘Luke’ or ‘Han’… _this_ past was _bad_. Why would you want your kid to be a walking, talking reminder of the shittiest time in your life?”

Finn sighed, contemplating. “You named me ‘Finn’, remember?”

Poe nodded, “Uh huh.”

“That was because of my stormtrooper call number, ‘FN’. A stormtrooper is what I was—what I’d been raised to be since before I was even old enough to remember who my parents were.” Finn took a seat on a boulder and stared out across the lake at the cottage beyond. Light from Rey’s bedroom lantern could be seen flickering through the curtain. “What’s a stormtrooper?” he asked, apropos of apparently nothing.

Poe was a little confused. Obviously, Finn knew what stormtroopers were, so why was he asking?

Finn didn’t wait for him to answer. “Stormtroopers are killers. Agents of evil. Raised not to think for themselves, but to carry out the wishes of those in power, regardless of how awful those wishes might be. They’re not raised to think—just to follow orders, and kill without question.”

Poe stayed silent, but seemed to be following where Finn was leading. He couldn’t yet see where they were going, but he was along for the ride.

“My name, ‘Finn’, is a constant reminder to me of that past. My past was horrible. If the First Order had had their way, I would not be the person I am today. I would not be ‘Finn’. When I left, I could’ve taken any name that I wanted. I could be ‘Joe’, or ‘Matt’… or ‘Palpatine’ or ‘Luke’. But ‘Finn’ is what resonated with me. It doesn’t forget the past that made me what I am today.”

Poe took a seat on the boulder next to Finn. “I think I get what you’re saying,” he said, “but had your past _succeeded_ , you _would_ be a killer. Isn’t the fact that you’re _not,_ proof that you put your past behind you?”

Finn shook his head. “There’s no such thing as putting your past behind you. Even if you defy it, it still informs your future. I am committed to a life of _saving_ , not of killing, _because_ I understand how fragile the separation is between the two. I was _this close,”_ he said, pinching his fingers together in front of his face, “to being a killer. It is my memories of what I could have been that remind me to stay true to who I am now.”

Poe looked at Finn with a reverence he reserved for very few individuals. “I think I get it now.”

“And I think that’s how we ended up with ‘Ren’ Solo,” said Finn.

“So you think the fact that it’s a portmanteau of ‘Rey’ and ‘Ben’ is total coincidence?” said Poe, deadpan.

“It can be two things,” answered Finn, smirking.

Poe smiled, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. “Well, thank you, this was very reassuring.”

“Reassuring?”

“Yeah. What I got out of this is that I’m awesome for naming you ‘Finn’,” he stated, with a facetiously confident nod of his head.

Finn chuckled softly. He knew this was just Poe being Poe, trying to relax what had become a very serious conversation—he didn’t seem to tolerate serious conversations all that well anymore. But Finn was still Finn, and he still had his purpose in life to fulfill, so he gave Poe the answer that he hoped was most in keeping with that:

“Poe, you are awesome for far more reasons than that, and don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Poe looked at his hands, then back at Finn. “You’re saving _me,_ you know.”

Finn smiled. “I know I am. That’s what I was saying, just more subtly. You poor dummy…” he added, wrapping his arm around Poe’s shoulders. “We’re saving each other, buddy. It’s mutual.”

**———**

“How do you feel?” she asked, looking him over as he sat upright, shirtless, legs under the blankets of his crummy hotel bed.

“Completely rejuvenated,” answered Ben facetiously, though he truly did look a thousand times improved. “Thank you for not letting me die.”

“It’s the least I could do,” she said.

“Do you want the whole story now?” he asked.

“No, I’ll just grill you about it in dreamland. Let’s not waste our few precious moments of privacy talking about stabbings.”

He nodded affirmatively. “Come over here,” he commanded. 

His tone was presumptuous, but she didn’t deny him outright. “All I can see is your bed, you know,” she said, taking a tentative step closer. “What if I whack my knee on some piece of furniture I can’t see?”

“Weird how those kinds of concerns never seem to bear out,” he said, throwing his blankets back and standing up from the bed. In spite of having just dismissed her point, he met her in the middle of the room.

“Mmm,” she agreed, lacing her fingers together behind his head as they closed the distance between themselves. “Ren is spending the night at the school with Malfi and Finnie,” she volunteered, apropos of nothing.

Ben’s eyebrows rose slightly. “But is Poe listening at the door?”

“I told the two of them to take a walk. I wasn’t subtle.”

“Perfect,” he said, leaning down and kissing her greedily. His fingers left red marks in her sides as he dragged them across her skin, pushing her tunic up as he did so.

She leaned into him, deepening the kiss, scratching her fingernails down his back. She left marks of her own.

He kissed her neck as he continued to loosen her clothing. “I need you,” he whispered. “In five years, we’ve never been apart this long. I feel broken,” he said, tearing her breast wraps away with a jerk.

“You’re strong,” she breathed into his ear. “I don’t like it either, but this is what needs to be done. You have strength enough to manage on your own.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, pushing her back against the desk opposite his bed. He ripped her pants down, and sat her gently upon its surface. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, pulling her knees apart.

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, making clear what had been her expectation all along.

And so it was, that the two connected across the stars. Soon, they would be back to business, doing the hard work of just making it through the night unscathed, where just being able to rest in safety was a luxury they couldn’t take for granted. For now though, they took their time enjoying the privileges granted to them by the Force itself. 

And so it was, that under the cover of darkness, the skulking onlookers were allowed to intrude upon their private moment. 

“Tell Lonâm to prepare for the ritual. It shouldn’t be long now. After that, nothing can stop us…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I still don’t know... did that rise to the level of “mature”? I’m so bad at knowing where the line is between Teen and Mature work, I would love a little feedback. For the life of me, I don’t know how to distinguish between the two. I don’t know if I rated Part 1 of this series correctly either... :P
> 
> On a totally different note, what do you think of my explanation of Ren's name? I post this on fanfiction.net too, and literally the *only* written response I've gotten to this story over there was someone questioning the credulity of their decision to name him Ren. My husband said the same thing when he started reading it: "Why the fuck would they name their only son after his evil emo boy band?" he said. He hasn't read this far yet, but I tried to assure him there was actually a rational explanation, if he would ever read far enough to hear it. What do you think? Did I succeed? Or is it gibberish, like my trolling husband seems to think? Please comment! :)


	14. Dark Illusions

**———Chapter 14: Dark Illusions———**

Temiri lay in his hotel room bed, following the meandering lines in the ceiling with his eyes. He was reminded of the term ‘apophenia’—the phenomenon wherein you begin to see patterns where none exist. He’d been tracing those lines for so long he could swear they had meaning.

He sat up with a huff.

_“‘The ends justify the means’ is a very Dark attitude, Temiri. Had it been an emergency, that would be one thing, but you could’ve just come back for the credit card. It was wrong to take advantage.”_

Ben’s chastisement of him ran on a loop inside Temiri’s head. 

 _Maybe he’s just looking for fault because he’s embarrassed that I had to come to his rescue,_ he thought, but shook his head at himself. _No, that’s bantha shit…_ he thought. _I’m just a fucking disappointment._

Temiri sighed, depressed. He’d felt so on top of his game, but now he just felt worthless. Malfi had said she believed in him, but it had barely been a day, and already, he had let his arrogance get the better of him.

 _Tomorrow will be different,_ he thought. _Tomorrow, I’ll remember to be humble._

**———**

She had gone in just a few minutes ago. Poe had warned him, _“That shit gets_ really _fucking boring,”_ but for now, the novelty of what he was seeing had yet to wear off. Rey was sitting in a chair Finn couldn’t see, eyeballs darting back and forth under half-closed eyelids as she wandered the great expanse of Ben’s dreamscape. He could only imagine what she was seeing in there.

**———**

Lonâm was intoxicated by the anticipation of it all.

As chief enforcer to his lord’s wishes, it fell to him to complete the ritual. He was oozing with pleasure at this honor—this was the act that would precipitate his vengeance. With this act, they would all fall to ruin. _For Zrirus…_

With his one arm, Lonâm set the basin on the altar. From a pitcher decorated in Sith runes, he poured water into the vessel. He set the pitcher down, and pulled a syringe out from the folds of his cloak. He pressed down on the plunger, and one after another, the crimson drops fell, coloring the water.

_Lonâm, it is time…_

At last, his lieutenants had sent word. Breathing deeply, savoring the moment of his vengeance, the sparks crackled from the eager fingers of his solitary hand. Taking in the Dark energies, the blood on the altar turned black, and a Jacob’s ladder of current arced upwards from the basin. 

In the Balc tongue, he spoke the words:

_Kintik hadzuska sutta chwituskak! Kintik hadzuska sutta chwituskak! Jiaasjen Jidai, jiassjen Jidai!_

And with that, he dipped his face into the pool.

**———**

Rey didn’t recognize where she was. From her own experience, she knew that not all dreams took place in settings that were based on real locations, but whatever location this was, it must be a reflection of something from either Ben’s past, or his subconscious.

Either way, she didn’t particularly like it.

The sky was a dark purplish-red, streaked with lightning. The ground beneath her feet was a barren wasteland of craggy rock and jagged peaks. She shivered from the cold—or, perhaps, from the mere illusion of cold.

 _Ben, where are you?_ she thought nervously. This place looked and sounded too much like how Ben had described his encounters with Anakin for her to feel secure about Ben’s state of mind. As she stepped carefully over the rough ground, she looked for him urgently, trying to swallow her fear.

The rocky spires jutting up out of the ground made it difficult to get her bearings. One after another, she climbed over and around the various peaks, searching. At last, she thought she saw him.

In her hurry to reach him, she stumbled over the uneven ground and fell to her knees. 

 _Pain…_ she thought. _I feel pain. Am I bleeding?_ She touched her fingers to her knee, and they came away wet. She wished she’d paid better attention during her last couple of dream surveillings—she couldn’t remember ever feeling pain in his dreams before.

Finally, she had made it to him. He stood still, overlooking a large chasm. He made no move as she approached him. As she got closer, she touched him on his shoulder.

“Ben?” she said, startled by how cold he was. She rounded on him and looked him square in the face. Momentarily paralyzed with fear, she saw not Ben, but the face of a man she didn’t know, solid as stone.

“What the hell is this?” she said, aghast.

“Have you not studied your history?”

From out of nowhere, there was Ben. “Oh, Ben! Holy shit, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! What is this place?”

“You don’t know it, do you?” he asked, curious. 

She shook her head. “Should I? Is this a real place? I just assumed you were having another anxiety dream…” she said, looking around, trying to place the location.

“There’s nothing to be anxious about. Things are finally turning around,” he said, with a smile and a gleam in his eye that she’d never seen on him before. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“Come here. Let me show you,” he said, opening his arms to her.

She didn’t know why, but she felt trepidation. Something about this wasn’t right. She knew that in his dreams, Ben still saw himself as darker and more sinister than she perceived him in real life, but this was different. He was… _creepy_. And she didn’t want to come closer.

He took a step towards her. She wanted to back up, but doing so would have plunged her off the cliff and into the chasm behind her. She steeled herself.

He took her gently by the hand, and leaned into her ear to speak. “This is for Zrirus, you bitch.”

And that was the last thing her senses registered. From then on, there was nothing.

**———**

Ben didn’t recognize where he was. He had assumed that every dreamscape was either a scene from his past, or in some novel location generated by his subconscious. Either he had some repressed memories resurfacing, or his subconscious was dishing up something… crazy. He looked around at the severe, barren hellscape that stretched out before him and narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should be worrying about his mental health.

“Ben, there you are.”

Ben turned around, and saw before him a man he’d never laid eyes on, but who was somehow familiar to him.

“Grandfather?” he asked, disbelieving his own senses.

“Yes, son, it’s me. You did it. You finally found me. I’m proud of you.”

“Grandfather, where the hell are we?” he asked, looking around. This uninviting landscape was the last place he wanted to celebrate this family reunion.

“This is Malachor. You know of it, yes?”

Ben _had_ studied Malachor. Under Luke’s tutelage, he had read that Malachor, an Outer Rim planet, was the site of a tremendous Sith temple, and the setting of a terrible war.

“This was the site of the Great Scourge, wasn’t it?” asked Ben.

“It was. A fantastic battle between the Jedi and the Sith. And the massive kyber crystal at its center… an artifact holding immense power.”

“It’s what killed all the Jedi of the time, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The kyber powered a great superweapon, petrifying all of the Jedi. Their bodies stand as silent monuments to this very day. This place yet exists, undiminished, retaining much spirit energy.”

“Why are we here?” asked Ben.

“This is where my spirit resides. Long have I waited for a proper vessel to carry my essence back into the galaxy writ large. Vader destroyed his body, and his son would not be turned…”

Ben was startled by this revelation. Vader? _‘His’_ son? What was he talking about?

His grandfather cocked his head slightly, appraising Ben. “It took some doing, separating you from your whore,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “She’s been causing me tremendous inconvenience for some time now…” 

Ben’s stomach dropped. He took a step back, his hand reflexively finding his saber, dutifully strapped to his hip even in the throes of this nightmare.

“You think you can cut me down here?” said the man wearing Anakin Skywalker’s face. “You fool. _I_ am in control here. But go on and try. Take your weapon. Strike me down. Show me what your hatred looks like. It will make it that much easier for me to take what is mine.”

Ben ignited his white lightsaber and carved diagonally through the body of the man in front of him. As he did, the façade was stripped away, and in its wake, this being’s true form.

“Thank you,” said the emperor, Lord of the Sith himself. “And now, at long last, young Skywalker… you are mine.”

**———**

Malfi awoke to the sound of a blood-curdling scream. It was the middle of the night still, and inside her tent, there was no light to see by. She’d have thought it was a dream, but for the added pain of Ren kicking her under the blankets.

“Holy crap, Ren, what’s the matter??” said Finnie, equally alarmed at the sudden interruption to what had otherwise been a restful night.

 _“It’s mama!!”_ he screamed. _“Something got mama!!”_ He threw his blanket off of himself, and ran out of bed. Forgetting where he was, he plowed straight into the wall of their tent, jerking out the stakes anchoring it to the ground before tearing right through the canvas and into the open air. Malfi and Finnie could see him racing through the grass in the direction of his parents’ house as they untangled themselves from the ruined tent.

“Ren!” Malfi shouted. “Wait, Ren! What are you doing??”

Nearly the whole school was awoken by the outburst. Prana crawled out of her own tent not far from where they’d been sleeping, and groggily surveyed the goings on.

Fern stuck his head out from the tent he shared with his brother. “What’s going on?” he shouted.

But Finnie and Malfi didn’t answer. They were already chasing after Ren, struggling to keep up with him. Before they could lose track of him for good, Simeon stepped out of his cottage and held out his hand. Ren was frozen in his tracks, and his hysteria drained from his small body. He collapsed in the field, shivering and sobbing.

“Mama…” he cried helplessly as his tears fell into the grass.

Malfi ran to his side. “Ren! Are you okay? Tell us what happened,” she begged. Simeon and Finnie stepped up behind her, and Finnie squatted next to her, laying a reassuring hand on Ren’s shoulder. Prana, Fern, and Geddy were out of their tents, hurrying over to see what had happened.

“Mama was talking to daddy…” Ren said, sobbing. “Daddy was _right there_. Everything was okay. Then he said something that made no sense, and mama went out like a light. I can’t see inside her head anymore…”

 _‘Seeing inside her head’?_ thought Malfi. Totally confused, she looked hopefully up at Simeon.

“I will contact your father,” he said, addressing Finnie. “We will see if anything is truly amiss. Please carry him into my cabin.”

Finnie did as he suggested, and scooped the small boy up into her arms. Together, they walked the short distance to Simeon’s cottage. Malfi took Ren’s hand and gently stroked his knuckles as they walked.

Once they were inside, Simeon sat down at his comms station. Malfi pulled one of the chairs away from the table for Finnie to sit down in, and she took the other chair for herself. The other students stood nervously in the doorway.

Simeon put in the comm code for Rey’s cabin, and they listened with bated breath for someone to answer. After a few seconds, they got their wish.

“Simeon? What are you doing up at this hour? What’s going on?”

“Commander Tico, how is Lady Rey doing? Ren woke up in a terrible fright that something was the matter with her.”

“Uhhh, I think everything’s fine, but hold on, I’ll double check.” There was a moment of quiet as Finn stepped away from the comms station and out of the Solos’ back office. When he returned, he sounded confused, but not alarmed. “Her  _ knee _ is bleeding, which is a little weird, since I don’t remember her having a cut there or anything, but besides that, she’s just sitting there like she was before. Well, wait, hold on,” he added, pausing momentarily to check on her again. “Her eyes aren’t darting around under her lids like they were earlier. Could she have fallen asleep sitting up?”

Simeon glanced at the terrified child in Finnie’s arms, then back to the comms station. “If you disturb her, you might pull her out of Lord Solo’s dream, but if she’s asleep, that’s a worse problem.” He paused, considering, before making his decision. “The risk to her is too great. Please rouse her.”

“Okay, hold on, I have to leave the study for a second,” he said. They could hear the creaking of the office chair as Finn got up and left the room.

The next sounds were of Finn shouting from the bedroom. There was an audible clamor as Finn returned to the comms station. 

“She’s unresponsive!” he shouted. “When I shook her, she just fell over, like the chair she’d been sitting on in his world just disappeared! Her eyes are just totally vacant! What can I do!?”

Simeon kept his calm about him, and issued his instructions. “The speeder is with you. Wake Captain Dameron, and the two of you bring Lady Rey over here. I will assess things further from there.”

“Got it!” said Finn, followed by a loud click. In a few minutes, they would be at the school, and Simeon could begin his triage. 

For now, Simeon’s only concern was the petrified boy, whimpering for his mother.

**———**

Finnie looked with sympathy at the limp little boy cradled in her arms. His eyes were open, but unfocused, and his cheeks were red and moist with spent tears. He had no more tears to shed—he just looked broken.

Finnie felt helpless. Besides being a spectator to this sad affair, she didn’t know how she could help. She wanted desperately to reassure her defeated young friend, but only his parents could do that. Then it dawned on her: _Could we contact Ben?_ She looked at Simeon, sitting quietly at the comms station. He looked back at her.

“Did you say something?” he said to her.

“Huh?” she said. “No, I didn’t, but I was just thinking…” _could we call Ben?_ She didn’t want to say the last part out loud. She wasn’t sure Ren should hear the suggestion, just in case Simeon said no—she didn’t want Ren getting his hopes up.

“You’d like to call Lord Solo?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts. She nodded. “Yes, I agree, we should do that,” he said. “I was simply waiting for your father to get here with Lady Rey.”

Finnie turned her head toward the door. Did she hear a speeder?

“I think that’s them now,” said Simeon.

Seconds later, the speeder pulled up right in front of Simeon’s door, and Finn hopped out. Rey was seated in the back of the speeder, propped up limply against Poe. Together, the two men lifted her out.

“Please bring her inside,” said Simeon, gesturing to his cot. Finn carried her inside and set her down. 

Ren climbed out of Finnie’s arms and over to his unconscious mother. “Mama,” he called out sadly. “Mama, I’m sorry…”

Poe put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright kid, don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

“Can you help her?” asked Finn.

“I don’t yet know. First I must see if I can figure out what happened to her,” answered Simeon. He knelt down on the floor next to the bed and set his hand gently upon her forehead. He closed his eyes, and his face took on a look of intense concentration. A moment later, he turned back to the assembled gathering.

“I feel something,” he said, “but I can’t tell what it is. I believe it is a dark presence, but I can’t lift it. Lady Rey…” he continued, shaking his head dolefully, “…I cannot feel. Perhaps Lord Solo would be able to go deeper.”

“Can we call him?” asked Poe.

“I will get right on it, yes,” said Simeon, rising from the floor. Ren pulled closer to his mother, burying his face in her hair.

Simeon sat down at the comms station once again, and entered the code that would connect him to Ben’s comlink. It didn’t take long for someone to answer.

“Hello?” said a groggy voice.

“Lord Solo, is everything alright?” asked Simeon.

“Well, it’s the middle of the night. I’m exhausted… Why?”

“What was your experience in dreams? What of the Lady Rey?”

“I can’t remember my dreams—but Rey isn’t here anymore. What happened?”

“Lady Rey is unconscious, and we can’t seem to wake her. Your son is beside himself.”

“What??” said Ben, aghast. “How did this happen??”

“We’re not certain. Your son woke up before anyone else was aware of anything being amiss. He described something he says he saw inside her head, in which you spoke to her, saying something he didn’t understand, and she was subsequently unresponsive.”

“That’s awful! I have no idea what that’s about…” said Ben. “What do you think I should do?” he asked.

“Considering the situation this puts you both in, I think it may be wise for you to return home. Through your bond, I believe you may be able to pull her out from the state she’s in. And without her protection, you too are at risk.”

“Then I’ll be there as soon as I can,” said Ben.

“Very g—” Simeon stopped, mid-word. “You mean, _‘We’ll_ be there as soon as we can,’ don’t you, my lord?”

“Of course, _‘we’_ … Forgive me, I’m just exhausted. _We’ll_ be there as soon as we can.”

Simeon was silent for just a moment, calculating. “My lord, how long does it take to get here from Naboo?” 

Poe and Finn exchanged confused glances. Why was Simeon asking him this?

“Oh, I promise to come as quickly as I can,” said Ben.

“Your son is very distressed, my lord—please provide a rough estimate,” Simeon pressed. By now, everyone listening was suspicious.

“The same amount of time it took me to get here…” said Ben.

“So, roughly twelve hours?” Simeon lied. He knew perfectly well it was at most a two-hour trip.

“I’m sorry,” said Ben, “but that’s just how it has to be. I promise to waste no time in getting there.” Then, as almost an afterthought, he said, “Tell my son I love him.”

“Of course, my lord. Please make all haste.”

“I will. Goodbye,” said Ben, and the channel went silent.

Simeon turned from the console and studied the faces of the crowd of observers, looking perplexed and uncertain.

Ren had turned from his mother to listen to the awkward transmission. Fresh tears threatened his eyes as he shook his head slowly. “That wasn’t daddy…”

**———**

Temiri was awoken by the sound of his comlink buzzing on his desk. Why it was ringing in the middle of the night, he had no idea, but before he could answer it, there was a pounding on his door. 

“Temiri! Temiri, open up!” It was Ben. This must be an emergency.

Ignoring the comlink for now, Temiri ran to the door and opened it as fast as he could. He didn’t even pause to put on a shirt.

“Ben, what’s the matter?? Is it your wound??”

“No, it’s you!” he screamed, pushing his way into Temiri’s room. “I almost died yesterday! I got stabbed because of _you!”_

Temiri was struck dumb with hurt. “But Ben! I did everything to try to _help_ you!”

“You were just in the _way!”_ he yelled, slapping Temiri hard across the face, knocking him back toward the middle of the room.

For a brief, terrifying moment, Temiri had flashes of his father—his _biological_ father. Before he was old enough to defend himself, Temiri had endured many such attacks at his father’s hands. To this very day, in fact, Temiri was haunted by his father’s malice.

Ben came at him again. “You’re worthless! You don’t even deserve to be called a _Jedi!"_ he screamed, and to Temiri’s horror, Ben drew his lightsaber and ignited it.

 _“Ben!!”_ Temiri screamed. “What are you doing?! _Stop!!!”_  

Temiri held out his hands, attempting, ineffectually, to defend himself against the strike he knew he couldn’t prevent.

With a vicious swing, Ben cut through the yielding flesh of Temiri’s right arm, sending it to the hotel room floor with a moist thump. Temiri shrieked, and retreated yet further backward toward the window. Ben continued his cruel advance, lashing out at Temiri with the Force, sending him crashing through the window and into the alley three storeys below.

As the last shards of glass finished raining down onto the pavement, everything, including the comlink on the desk, was quiet. Slamming his fist down upon it, Ben smashed the inoffensive comlink into a hundred pieces, then approached the shattered window. In the alley below, his apprentice lay still—living, but unconscious and broken. Ben’s eyes darted up to the rooftops above, and he nodded a small salute to whomever was watching.

_He’s all yours…_


	15. Machinations

**———Chapter 15: Machinations———**

“He’s not answering…” said Simeon, with a sad resignation.

“Finnie, why don’t you take Ren back to bed. You can put him in my tent if you want,” said Finn.

Finnie nodded, and stood beside Ren, looking at Rey’s unconscious body laying upon Simeon’s meager mattress. Finnie gently lifted the boy up into her arms. Ren protested, but was too tired and too weak for his objections to hold any sway. Wearily, they left the cabin. With a look from Simeon, Malfi followed them out.

“So this is really fucking bad,” said Poe, stating the obvious.

“Yeah. What the hell should we do?” asked Finn.

Simeon gave a long sigh. “I think we need to go to Naboo. Both Temiri and Lord Solo are in grave danger.”

“Just what are we dealing with here?” asked Finn. “Ren said, ‘that wasn’t my daddy,’... so just who the hell _was_ it?”

“That was Ben’s voice,” said Poe.

Simeon nodded. “It was, but it was not Lord Solo’s mind. It struck me that he’d almost taken Temiri’s existence for granted, and he never referred to any of us by name—except Lady Rey, whose name I had already invoked. He never asked about _any_ of us. He apparently doesn’t even know where we are, for him to have believed it could take twelve hours to get here from Naboo.”

“‘Tell _my son_ I love him’, he said,” observed Finn. “He’d have said ‘Ren’…“

“Or maybe, _oh_ , I don’t know, asked to _talk_ to him,” said Poe, acerbically. He leaned back into the wall next to the door. “Shit.”

The three men stared at one another morosely. “Can you get us a fast ship to Naboo?” asked Simeon.

Poe scoffed, and Finn shook his head. “Ben took the last shuttle they had here, and even that was…“

“—It was shit,” said Poe.

Finn considered their options. “Where is the _Millennium Falcon_ these days?” he asked. 

Poe perked up, “Hey, yeah! The _Falcon_ would be worth taking.”

“The _Millennium Falcon_ is with Chewbacca on Kashyyyk. He is magistrate of his hometown of Rywookrrorro,” said Simeon. “I don’t know if he’s readily available to help us, but we could ask.”

“How far from here is Kashyyyk?” asked Finn.

“Six hours through hyperspace,” said Poe. “If he left _right now_ , we’d still be eight hours from Naboo. Though it may be less, for the _Falcon…_ ”

Simeon shook his head. “We may be too late to help them…”

“...But we have to try,” said Poe resolutely.

Finn nodded. “Let’s make the call,” he said, pulling a chair up to the comms station.

**———**

Malfi and Finnie sat quietly inside Finn’s tent, next to Ren. He wasn’t asleep, but he barely moved. He lay in the dark with his eyes open, breathing shallowly. Finnie and Malfi were trying, with limited success, to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place inside Simeon’s cabin.

“What do you think they’re saying?” whispered Malfi.

Finnie shook her head. “I’m not sure… Do you think they’ll go to Naboo?”

Malfi knitted her brows together. “Why would they go all the way to Naboo?”

Finnie shrugged. “You didn’t get a weird feeling from what Ben said?”

“That wasn’t my daddy…” muttered Ren. The girls looked at him with concern, and Malfi frowned.

Finnie thought hard about all she’d heard and seen in the last few days. With a tentative hope, she addressed her shivering young companion.  “Ren, what do _you_ think is going on?”

Ren didn’t respond right away, and Finnie and Malfi thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to. Then, in the tiniest voice, he surprised them both by actually answering, “Something got mama. It was in her head. Now she can’t talk. Something got daddy too, but… now it’s talking out of daddy’s mouth.”

Malfi was tearing up just listening to him. “And Temiri wasn’t answering his comlink…”

“He’s in trouble, too,” said Ren. “The thing that got daddy… it’ll hurt Temiri, too.”

Malfi stared at Finnie with a look of profound worry on her face. “We have to help them,” she said.

“They’re going to go to Naboo,” Finnie said with finality.

“And we have to go with them,” said Malfi.

**———**

_What the hell was that noise??_ thought the clerk, bumping around in the dark looking for his slippers and his coat.

Moments ago, he had been awoken by a piercing scream and the sound of shattering glass, and immediately rolled out of his cot with surprise. He was perfectly used to his guests engaging in unseemly behavior, but they usually had the good sense to keep quiet about it. Plausible deniability was difficult to manage when the evidence of wrongdoing was so hard to ignore. He wasn’t anxious to find out what was happening, but if his windows were getting smashed, then _someone_ would have to be billed for it.

He’d found his slippers, but had left his coat under the front desk, so he stepped out of his room, locking it behind him, and headed over to find it. The front desk lights were on all night long, in case anyone decided to show up after hours, and he grumbled as he saw his coat right where he’d left it.

The sound of footsteps descending the side staircase drew his attention as he approached the front desk. Nervous, he ducked down under the counter to avoid being seen. The last thing he wanted was to encounter whomever was responsible for the ruckus—not being a fan of direct confrontation, he much preferred to check the alley to see which room it was, and quietly bill the occupant for the damage.

To his surprise, it was his well-connected government guest who rounded the base of the stairs. The clerk perked up, “Oh, Mister Blagg, it’s you! I’m sorry, were you roused by that awful noise too?”

Mister Blagg stopped in his tracks and looked at the clerk, studying him. “Yes. Do you have any idea what it was?”

“No sir, I don’t, but I was just about to go check. I left my coat here under the front desk, but the back alley was my next stop. I heard a window break, so I was going to look and see what room that was.”

 _“Don’t bother. It’s nothing,”_ said Mister Blagg.

The clerk thought for a moment. “You know what? I’m sure it’s nothing. I think I’ll just go back to bed.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Oh, and this is my last night here. By morning, I’ll be gone.”

“So I can close out your account then? Both rooms?”

“That’s correct.”

“Sounds good, sir. I hope you and your young friend had a pleasant stay.”

“We certainly did.”

**———**

Exhausted, Finn crawled into the tent, hoping to find the kids asleep inside. He should have known better.

“So what did you guys decide, dad?” whispered Finnie from the darkness.

“Dammit, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Really, Mister Finn?” asked Malfi, utterly incredulous. “How could you possibly expect us to be asleep right now?”

Finn sighed. “Ren, are you awake too?”

“Yes sir,” said Ren, in a small voice.

 _Fucking kids…_ he thought to himself. “Well, you can all go to sleep now. We’re in a holding pattern until Chewie gets here in the _Falcon._ We have about five or six hours until that happens, so sleep is the main priority right now.”

“So we’re going to Naboo?” asked Finnie.

“If by ‘we’, you mean me, Poe, and Simeon, yes.”

The kids protested vigorously. “But dad!” cried Finnie, “You can’t just leave us here! What about Rey?”

“Chewie is going to look after her in the _Falcon._ The three of us are going to find Temiri and Ben.”

“But I need to come!” shouted Ren, popping up from his pillow.

“Me too!” cried Malfi. “Temiri needs me!”

“Come on dad, we can help,” insisted Finnie.

“Absolutely not, and I’m not going to waste the last few hours of sleep I’m likely to get for the foreseeable future arguing about it,” said Finn. “The best thing you can do to help is to stay here, where we know you’re safe.”

“But _dad—”_

“—Not another word, Finnie. I’m sorry, but that’s final. Now please _help_ me by letting me get some sleep between now and when Chewie gets here.”

Finnie’s shoulders sank, and she and Malfi exchanged defeated glances in the near total darkness. 

Finn lay himself down among the chaotic mess of pillows and blankets and sighed deeply as he put himself to sleep amid the anxious and disappointed youths in his tent. He found it difficult, quieting the worried narratives swirling around inside his brain. Reaching into his past, he called upon the training that had once helped him find rest during stressful situations. Like every good stormtrooper is conditioned to be able to do on command, he turned off his brain and let it go dormant inside his skull.

**———**

Malfi pushed aside the curtain to Temiri’s cottage and let herself inside. Glancing around, she felt deeply sentimental. _This is where I first heard his crystal_ , she thought, looking at the table, remembering it littered with tools and wires when she helped him construct it. He needed her, she knew it. His crystal knew it too.

“Oh! Malfi, sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” said Finnie. “I’ll come back later.”

Malfi spun around and saw Finnie just as she was turning to go. “No, Finnie, wait!” she called, reaching for her hand. “Stay with me, please.”

Finnie easily relented, and took a seat at the table. Malfi climbed into the chair opposite her, and the two friends just stared at each other, looking depressed. “I can’t believe they left us here,” said Malfi dolefully. 

Finnie nodded.

“Temiri needs you.”

At the sound of that voice, the two girls jerked their heads toward the door, spying Ren’s face peeking through the closed curtain. He pushed himself in the rest of the way and sat down on the dirt floor of Temiri’s cottage. “It’s hard to convince adults sometimes that you can actually help them,” he said.

“No kidding,” said Finnie. “They have such low expectations…”

“We should’ve snuck onboard the _Falcon,”_ said Ren.

Malfi chuckled. “Yeah! We should have just hid in the closet,” she said, smiling.

“Can you imagine?” said Finnie, grinning widely. “They show up on Naboo, and we just pop out and go, ‘Well! I guess we’re here, so we may as well come along!’ They’d lose their minds, but it’s not like they’d turn around and take us home.” 

“The _Falcon_ has smuggling compartments under the floorboards,” said Ren. “We could hide in there.”

“That’s brilliant!” said Malfi, but her enthusiasm quickly evaporated. “I wish we’d done that…”

“Do you wish you could go back and have done that instead of doing what we were told and staying here?” asked Ren.

“Yes,” said Malfi, nodding vigorously.

“Definitely,” agreed Finnie.

“Good,” said Ren. “I was hoping you would say that.” Ren got up from the floor and folded his hands on the table top, looking down at his fingers. “So, when Chewie gets here in the morning, there’s bound to be a lot of activity going on. Let’s wait for an opening, and sneak on board.”

Malfi and Finnie exchanged puzzled glances. Looking back at Ren, Malfi asked, “What are you talking about Ren? ‘In the morning’?”

“Yeah, in the morning,” he said. “For now, keep sleeping. When we wake up, you both need to be as strong as you can be. Daddy, mama, and Temiri are counting on us,” he said, smiling sagely. He took them each by the hand and gave them an affectionate squeeze, before turning around and pushing his way back out through the canvas curtain door.

After he left, the two girls continued to just stare at the door, barely comprehending what was going on. Eventually, Finnie looked back at Malfi and asked the question that was on both of their minds. “Did, uh… did we just have a secret meeting in our sleep? Or do I always have dreams about five-year-old Force gurus convincing me to insert myself into my dad’s business by sneaking under the subflooring of a freighter?”

Malfi looked back at her weakly. “The first one—secret meeting.”

Finnie nodded, also weakly. “Well,” she said, taking a long, cleansing breath, “There you go, then.”

**———**

Temiri awoke to a nightmare. He was staring at a ceiling of cracked stone, dim light flickering its reflection off its surface. Nothing about where he found himself was familiar to him.

Temiri tried to roll onto his side, but it was all wrong—something was the matter with his arm. The memories flooded back…

_You don’t even deserve to be called a Jedi!!_

That’s what Ben had said to him, right before he… 

Apprehensively, Temiri glanced down at himself, to his shoulder and beyond. As his eyes confirmed the horror in his memories, Temiri screamed, and tried to clutch at himself, but found his left arm tethered at his other side.

A voice cut through the sound of Temiri’s fright. “I can feel your panic, young Jedi.”

Temiri couldn’t see the source of the voice, but there was a calmness there that didn’t fit the context of this setting. It made the hairs on the back of Temiri’s neck stand up.

“You look like me now,” said the voice. The man belonging to that voice then stepped up to where Temiri could see him, standing over him at the head of the gurney, or altar, or table, or whatever this was that Temiri found himself strapped to. From his point of view, the man’s face was upside-down, shadowed by the hooded cloak he now wore. But Temiri could see his eyes.

Temiri recognized this man. This was the second of their attackers from the day before—the one whose arm Ben had removed just before Temiri killed the attendant inside the Hall of Records.

“That was my protégé, Zrirus, that you killed. You Jedi must not think very much of apprentices, do you?” he asked, rhetorically. “After all, just look at how your master treated you…”

Temiri stared up into the yellow eyes of his captor. What was he insinuating?

“I know how your master abandoned you,” he said, in a tone that was almost sympathetic, but Temiri knew better than to think it was sincere. “Called you ‘worthless’, didn’t he…”

 _Worthless._ Yes, that was the word. Temiri looked away, toward the ceiling at the other end of the room.

“Worthless, indeed,” said the man. “Blamed you for what happened to him, didn’t he? That’s insecurity for you, always looking to place blame elsewhere. He cast you aside out of his own weakness.” He shook his head slowly as he editorialized.

“You’re full of shit,” Temiri gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Am I? Does something I’ve said sound incorrect to you? Your own father cast you out too, did he not? Are you trying to tell me that was because of his inner strength?” he chuckled low in his throat. “No. Your father was weak also. Weak and blind. He couldn’t sense your power, your true worth. Neither could your ‘master’…”

Temiri’s heart raced inside his chest. How did this stranger know of his father?

The man circled the table to where Temiri could look at his face right-side-up. “But _we_ could see it. Ever since we first laid eyes on you in that restaurant… we could feel your power.”

“You _poisoned_ me in that restaurant,” spat Temiri, glaring up at his captor.

“Please forgive us for that,” cooed the hooded figure. “That was in error. The drugs were meant for your master… to weaken him so that we could talk to you without his interference.”

Temiri didn’t respond. Something about that didn’t feel sincere to him, though it _did_ make sense. Temiri had said himself that Ben made a far more logical target than he did.

“Please allow me to introduce myself at last. My name is Lonâm, and I am a powerful Sith cleric. I can see you are powerful too, but unlike myself, you are unappreciated. These are not good people who took you in. They are not righteous. They are just selfish, taking your power to use for themselves when it suits them, but crippling you and casting you aside at the slightest indication that you might be more powerful than they can control. Your master could have died yesterday, it’s true. That wasn’t due to _your_ failings, but rather, his own.”

Temiri was silent. His missing arm tickled him—he wished he could rub it.

“I see you miss the arm he took from you,” said Lonâm. “I miss mine too. Join me. Together, we can be each other’s right hand, and help one another realize our full potential. Our _true_ power.”

Temiri knew this must be a trap. Surely, this was some plot to get him to turn against his family. This ‘Lonâm’ was just trying to manipulate him. 

“Your ‘family’, you say…” said Lonâm. “Yes, I can hear your thoughts, and I know you don’t trust me. That is wise. The powerful should not trust easily. You have learned today that trust is easily violated. You trusted that your master would always look out for you, and you now see the folly in that. You trusted that your masters took you in because they are selfless and generous. You wanted to believe that they saw your need, and extended a caring hand to you—I think you _know_ that that was a lie.”

Temiri averted his eyes from the man before him. His own words echoed back to him, and those of Malfi, just hours before he left Dendrokaan. _‘All the people_ here _love you and care about you!’_ she had said. He’d wanted to believe that, truly—but even then, Malfi had felt his doubt. Trusting _anyone_ too much was dangerous…

“While it may be that your father was truly a monster, don’t believe for one second that your… _‘new_ parents’… hold any genuine affection for you either. They wanted you for your power—they wanted _all_ of you for your power. To keep you tightly controlled, to train you to stay in line and fight for them. _‘The Republic recognizes that having people who can capably use the Force is good for the galaxy as a whole, not just the government’…_ that’s what you were told, wasn’t it? Classic misdirection. It is _purely_ for the government’s benefit that you were collected and trained. _You_ may not have had a convenient alternative, but the others…”

Temiri was holding his breath. This man really did know too much…

“The others… _Malfi,”_ he said, and Temiri’s eyes bulged, rapt with attention. “Her parents,” continued Lonâm, “she can’t remember them… and that is by design. Your dear friend Malfi… They murdered her parents. Not the First Order—the Republic. Your masters. I don’t expect you to trust me, but it is the truth. You are wise to doubt my sincerity. But I have nothing to gain by telling you this, nothing besides your companionship. Zrirus and I, we were trying to _free_ you yesterday. We wanted you to join us. We attacked your master to free you from his tyranny. If only we had succeeded before he could cast you aside so cruelly…” Lonâm said, shaking his head dolefully.

Temiri listened nervously as Lonâm continued. It was true that Malfi couldn’t remember what had happened to her parents. If only she could have told him of their fate, to refute what Lonâm was saying now. How _could_ she not know?

“I don’t ask for your trust—trust cannot be given, only earned,” he continued. “But I ask you: If you and I were enemies, would it not have made more sense for me to kill you?” Temiri considered this, and looked into the eyes of this strange Sith cleric, assessing him. Lonâm kept talking, meeting the penetrating stare of his guest, “I have no intention of killing you, young Jedi. Rather, I would like you to notice that you do not lie here in pain, broken from the torture you received last night at the hands of your master…”

Temiri took notice, and it was true. Except for his right arm, still cut short just below the shoulder, he was healed from the crippling fall he had taken out of the window.

Lonâm continued, “Please consider, that if my intentions were false…”

With a barely audible click, Temiri found the pressure that had been around his arm, his waist, and his ankles, was lifted.

“…If my intentions were false, I would have nothing to gain by freeing you.”


	16. In the Middle of Nowhere

**———Chapter 16: In the Middle of Nowhere———**

Chewbacca plodded heavily down the gangplank of the _Millennium Falcon_ , roaring his greeting to the men who had eagerly awaited his arrival. Poe was the first to come in for a big hug.  

“Chewie, buddy, it’s fantastic to see you,” he said, giving his friend a hearty squeeze, which was reciprocated enthusiastically. As they pulled apart, Finn approached to offer his own warm greeting to the Wookiee, who responded by shaking him animatedly.

“Chewbacca,” greeted Simeon, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I do hope we’re not causing you an overabundance of trouble by pulling you away from your responsibilities."

Chewbacca roared with amusement, vigorously shaking his head.

“What did he say?” whispered Finn.

“He says he put his secretary in charge while he’s away.  _ C-3PO _ is his secretary, so naturally, he’s amused because he knows how notoriously abusive Wookiees are of secretaries — _ and _ of droids, for that matter.”

“And C-3PO just happens to be both…” said Finn.

“Yeah, lucky him,” said Poe, smirking.

Chewbacca bellowed, gesticulating at the open gangplank. Simeon answered, “Yes, we are ready to go. Let’s make haste. We each have just a few items to bring along, and things here are as secure as they’re going to be. Shiroto?” he asked, turning to look behind him. Shiroto stepped forward. “You are in charge while we’re away. You have my comm code, and that of the _Falcon?”_

“Yes, Simeon, I do. I can handle things here, don’t worry.”

“We promise to make it easy on him. Please just hurry back with everyone,” said Prana, speaking for herself and the two young men behind her, Geddy and Fern.

“Thank you,” said Simeon. “Let’s collect our things, as well as the Lady Rey.” As Simeon headed for his cottage, Chewbacca and Poe followed behind him. Finn looked anxiously for his daughter and her friends.

“Hey guys,” he said, addressing the four young apprentices in attendance. “Have you seen the others? Finnie, Malfi, and Ren, I mean?”

Fern shook his head. “Not since about ten minutes ago, no. When they heard you were about to leave, I heard them muttering about how they, uh… how they didn’t want to be here when you left,” he finished with an apologetic shrug. “They took off, sorry.”

Finn sighed. “Thanks kid. When you see them, tell them we’ll be home soon.” With a last, defeated shake of his head, Finn followed the others to Simeon’s cabin.

**———**

She had felt like this once before.

Back on the _Supremacy II_ , after General Hux and that insufferable Sharna Ren had fitted her with a neural disruptor, her body had been a prison. She’d lost all voluntarily nervous system function, her senses had been deadened, and the Force had been a thing she’d only barely been able to perceive. All sensation, all sense of time, all connection to the universe… it had been muted.

This, however, was no neural disruptor. A neural disruptor, at least, is a device created by men, and adheres to the physical laws of the universe. Though her body had been a prison, she had at least been granted the meager assurance that her body _persisted_ , and her mind, though robbed of perception, still endured within its walls. This, what was happening to her now, was something far more nefarious.

Where she was now, was nowhere. Her mind had no tether. 

 _I wonder if this is what was happening to Anakin…_ she mused. _Perhaps my spirit and his are just floating in the void, part of the Cosmic Force, but unable to manifest. He thought his soul was dying, but maybe he just couldn’t control it anymore. I don’t feel like my soul is dying, but this_ is _terrifying… I don’t want to wander the void like this forever…_

Rey had never prayed in her life. She feared no gods, and the Force, to her, was not an entity one went to seeking favors. Though her heart, and her head, such as they were, told her it was pointless, she found herself praying.

She prayed for an end to the void.

**———**

He couldn’t wake up from this nightmare.

His own stupidity, his weakness, had brought him to this. He had been duped. He’d believed his grandfather was crying out for him, that the Force was in jeopardy and he alone had the power to render aid. He’d believed that his forebears had needed him, and that he could actually _help_ them for once.

Stupid.

Now he wandered this desolation with no end in sight. No end for the landscape, jagged rock and frozen carbonite as far as the eye could see, and no end to the nightmare. 

He knew his body was awake, though. Every so often, he caught glimpses. At first, he thought it was just the thunder. Growing up on Chandrila, one of the many frivolities he’d heard and quickly dismissed was that if you stare at clouds long enough, you see shapes in them. That they tell stories. In this hell, thunder played that game—the longer you listened to it, the more it sounded like people you once knew. Like those you’d let down.

But now he’d been here long enough to know that it wasn’t all just thunder. There had been actual, human voices in the wall of noise. He’d heard Temiri’s voice, begging him to stop.

 _Begging me to stop what?_ Ben agonized over what it could’ve meant. What hideous sin was his body committing while his mind was exiled to this wasteland? 

Alone, he plodded on, over craggy rock, around gaping chasms, and through the plumes of vapor spurting up between cracks in the plates. This _was_ a real place, though this version of it might be imaginary. Symbolic, perhaps.

With little to hope for and nothing else to do, Ben sought out the massive kyber at the heart of Malachor.

**———**

Poe tried to find some amusement from the holographic monsters in front of him, but this, whatever it was, was above his pay grade. “I don’t understand this shit,” he said.

“I don’t understand it either. I just assumed that when my guys beat up your guys, that’s good,” said Finn.

“I can’t even tell which guys are yours, and which are mine.” 

“See the ones that are lying down dead? Those are yours.”

Poe raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you fucking with me?”

Finn made a face like he was about to spin some dubious justification, but was saved from further scrutiny by Simeon’s emergence from the cockpit. “Gentlemen, any change in Lady Rey’s status since I last checked in with you?”

Finn and Poe glanced opposite the bulkhead, at the modest bunk on the fore wall of the lounge. Rey’s body lay there, breathing all too shallowly, utterly brain dead, yet somehow physically stable. 

“No, no change,” said Finn, morosely. “We’ve just been here… keeping her company.”

“I see. Well, I didn’t expect any more than that. I’m just glad it isn’t worse,” said Simeon. Finn pursed his lips. “Anyhow, I’ve been scouring the system for any trace of the shuttle Lord Solo and Temiri took with them to Naboo, but nothing has turned up.”

“You know that tracking devices are _not_ standard-issue on Republic shuttles, right?” asked Finn.

“Yes, I do, but they _do_ come standard with short-range signaling beacons, do they not?” asked Simeon. Finn nodded with a shrug, acknowledging Simeon’s point. “So if I know where to look, then I should be able to tell if it’s there. But I can’t locate its signature.”

“Well, he _did_ say he was coming home… Think he could have meant it?” suggested Finn.

Poe shook his head, “Don’t you think he’d have made it back by now if he had? He said he was ‘making all haste’, didn’t he?”

“I don’t think whatever is controlling him even knows where Dendrokaan is,” said Simeon. “I can’t begin to guess where else he would have gone, however.”

“Super,” said Poe. “Well, I guess we ask around once we get to Theed.”

“Mmm,” agreed Simeon. He took a seat next to them at the dejarik table, and the men scooted over to better accommodate him. “Something else is bothering me,” he added.

“What’s that?” asked Finn.

“Well, by now, we’re a good distance away from Dendrokaan… so why do I still feel the familiar presence of some of our students?”

Poe and Finn exchanged glances. “You’re not, uh, talking about _us_ , are you?” asked Finn, hoping naïvely that it wasn’t anything more worrisome than that.

“I don’t believe so, no,” said Simeon.

There was a protracted silence as the men sat there, unmoving, listening for anything other than the omnipresent hum of the _Millennium_ _Falcon._ Finn stood up cautiously, edging his way away from the lounge and toward the bulkhead door. He stepped quietly, Poe and Simeon watching him carefully as he went, eyeing him with interest. About halfway between the lounge and the bulkhead, Finn stopped. 

In his mind’s eye, he recalled one of his first adventures with Rey. Looking warily down at the floor beneath his feet, he suddenly understood.

“Son of a bitch,” he said. He was equal parts furious and proud.

**———**

“So when were you planning on making your presence known?” he asked them.

“We sort of figured that once we made it to Naboo, you would decide it wasn’t worth it to take us back, and we’d sort of get to go with you by default.”

Finn pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to his daughter speak. The three kids were seated at the dejarik table where the men had been sitting just moments before they decided to start tearing up the floorboards. Finnie’s comrades in arms sat meekly on either side of her.

Finn and Simeon stood in silent judgement of the children. Behind them, Chewbacca observed from the bulkhead door, arms crossed, possibly snickering. Poe, too, was more amused than anything else.

“Well, we’re less than an hour from Naboo,” said Finn, sighing frustratedly. “If we turned around now, that would put us on a multi-hour delay. Dammit, Finnie! Why the hell would you do this?”

Ren raised his head in his friend’s defense. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s my fault. I talked them into sneaking aboard. They wouldn’t have even known about the smuggling compartments if it wasn’t for me.”

“Oh, come on, Ren,” interjected Malfi. “While it may be true that we didn’t know about the subfloor, it’s not like we were a tough sell. Mister Finn,” she said, turning a pleading eye to him, _“we can help._ You _know_ how good Finnie is with a sword, and Ren and I can use the Force. I know he’s basically untrained, but he’s got talent! We planned this whole thing in our dreams last night! He set it up!”

“It’s true, dad! I thought I was having a normal dream—in it, you’d already left, and we were all pissed off and wishing we’d done more to come along—”

“—Yeah, that’s how it was for me, too!” yelled Malfi.

“—and we just sort of planned it all before we even realized we were dreaming.”

Simeon studied the small boy in their midst. “Is this true, Ren?”

Ren nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s pretty easy to get into people’s heads. I started with lizards a couple days ago.” At this, Malfi shot him an intrigued look, one colored with a mentor’s pride.

“A couple days, you say?” said Simeon, surprised. “Well, that’s an impressive rate of progress. I hope you at least have compassion enough to reserve this intrusive skill for moments of real need?”

Ren nodded vigorously. “I do. I wouldn’t like it if someone butted into my head without me saying it was okay first, so I only do it when I think it’s really important.”

“Hey, that’s right,” said Finn. “You were watching Rey’s dreams just the other night. Poe’s too, if I recall.” Poe’s head immediately snapped up, his eyes wide with barely-concealed embarrassment. Finn continued, “Well, I don’t know if peeking in on Poe’s dreams really counts as ‘necessary’ or ‘important’ in this situation…”

“I know! And I’m sorry about that!” shouted Ren. “I wasn’t thinking about it at the time—I just thought that, by checking up on them both, I was _helping!_ But I swear, I didn’t see anything bad! It was all really _nice_ , actually! You and Uncle Poe were—”

“—Okay, that’s enough kid,” blurted Poe, his hands extended out in front of him as though he could physically hold back the floodgates of information from opening too far. “I think we get it.”

The three men looked at each other, then back at the kids, then back at each other again. “So what are we going to do about this?” asked Poe.

Finn screwed up his mouth. “Well, as much as I hate to admit it, I think they got us. Turning around is a terrible idea, and I don’t think we could imprison them on the ship if we tried.” The kids sat up a little straighter, smiles threatening to light up their faces. “They’d just escape, and then we’d be in a worse bind. I think we bring them along…”

Poe nodded subtly, and Chewbacca snort-chuckled in the background. Simeon regarded the children as a father might regard their teenaged child before entrusting them with the keys to a luxury speeder. “Alright then, young learners. We arrive at Naboo within the hour. Please make all necessary preparations. And remember: While we concede that you are resourceful, intelligent, _and_ talented— _and_ _determined_ —you must accept that you lack the wisdom and experience that a mission like this one calls for. You must trust us to know best, and you must all follow our directions.”

Malfi and Ren nodded their heads quickly. Finnie smiled broadly at her father, proud to get to accompany him on this mission. It was settled.

The group dispersed, and Finn gestured for Finnie to follow him toward the storage lockers. Malfi followed Simeon and Chewbacca back into the cockpit to wait out the rest of their voyage watching the stars streak past them. Poe just leaned backward into the wall of the familiar freighter, arms crossed, watching everyone else depart for their respective preparatory-slash-time-killing activities. Everyone, that is, except for Ren, who simply sidled up to where his mother lay in repose on the solitary lounge bunk.

He laid one hand on hers, and with the other, he stroked her hair. “I’m coming for you, mama.”


	17. Families Old and New

**———Chapter 17: Families Old and New———**

As the ship dropped out of hyperspace and the stars coalesced back into fixed, concrete points of light, the passengers aboard the _Millennium Falcon_ readied themselves for departure.

“Naboo,” said Poe with a sigh, looking out the cockpit window. “Everybody ready?” he called, rising from his seat just behind Chewbacca.

“Yeah, everyone make sure to use the head before we land. We’re not coming back just to pee,” said Finn, eyeing the kids accusatorily.

“I don’t know, dad, are you sure we can’t just shit in our diapers?” suggested Finnie, oozing with sarcasm. “I mean, fuck, I know I only started wearing a bra, like, two days ago, but we’re not babies. Try not to be so condescending.”

“You know, young lady, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your language lately…”

“Sorry, she’s been hanging out with me too much,” said Poe, coming to Finnie’s defense. Malfi and Ren exchanged amused glances.

“Well, god dammit, if everyone could just clean it up a bit, I’d sure fucking appreciate it,” said Finn, emphasizing his point with a good shake of his blaster before securing it tightly to his thigh. 

“Right, _priorities_ , people,” said Finnie, pulling her vibroblade from the scabbard at her waist and giving it an aggressive twirl, mocking her father good-naturedly.

“Okay, let’s everyone stop swinging their fucking weapons around in this tight fucking space,” admonished Poe dryly. “We’re landing.”

Chewbacca hollered, and Poe had to correct himself. “Right, _fucking_ landing, sorry.” Chewie snorted a laugh, and Finn shook his head dismissively. Simeon exchanged a sympathetic look with Finn, but was otherwise unresponsive to the chatter.

Chewbacca piloted the _Falcon_ through the airspace above Theed, and everyone was granted an expansive view of the cityscape below.

“Wow, it sure is pretty down there,” remarked Malfi, taking in the colorful buildings and grand architecture.

Though Kamino was technically her birth planet, this was only the second planet Finnie had ever actually laid eyes on. She didn’t have a lot to compare it to (though neither did Malfi), but she found herself feeling unimpressed. She missed the sweeping hillsides of Dendrokaan.

As the _Falcon_ settled into position on the tarmac at the Port of Theed, everyone prepared to disembark. Ren gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, silently honoring her one last time as he prepared to do whatever he could to help guide her mind back to her body. He then took his place among the rabble of fighters preparing to exit. Poe stepped up behind him, setting his hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders. Ren looked up at him, and the two exchanged a meaningful look. 

Chewbacca approached the controls to the entry ramp and waited for his passengers to assemble in front of him. Simeon was the first to step up to the bulkhead, followed by Finn and Finnie, Malfi, and Poe and Ren. Ren took Poe’s hand and squeezed it. “For our family,” he whispered. 

With a hiss of vapor, the gangplank on the freighter dropped down.

**———**

“That’s right, we’re looking for a Republic-issue, Mark II transport shuttle,” explained Finn to the courtesy clerk in the spaceport office.

“A Mark II shuttle, you say?” repeated the clerk, a blond thing with a fake grin and a faker moustache. His tone betrayed some mild disdain. Obviously, the Mark II was crappier than most of the shuttles this man was used to dealing with. “Let me see… yes, we had a Mark II shuttle registered to the Unified Republic Military here just recently. However, unless you’re willing to settle its bill, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more about it,” he said, making little effort to conceal his snooty attitude.

“It left an unpaid balance owing?” asked Simeon.

“Yes, and whoever took it damaged Port property on his way out,” he added, frowning. Then, with a saccharine smile, “So? May I ask how you’ll be paying?”

Poe sighed in irritation. Slapping his own Republic-issue credit card down on the counter, he said, “Just tell us what you know already.”

“Very good, sir. Just one moment while I complete this transaction.” There were a few seconds of silence while the clerk tapped on his holopad. After another moment, he cleared his throat and studied Poe from under his downcast brows. “I’m sorry, but your card appears to be suspended.”

“Oh, for _fuck’s sake!”_ he shouted, as Finn pulled him away from the desk. 

Simeon stepped up in front of the two men and gingerly set his own card down. “Please try that one,” he said calmly.

“Mmm, thank you,” replied the clerk. After the customary waiting period, the clerk reset his false smile, and prepared to divulge the facts they were seeking.

“So, the shuttle was registered to a Mister Pameron Doe, U.R.M. I.D. number 4837227, who arrived the day before yesterday. There is a note here that says ‘Payment due upon checkout’, so no credit card information was taken at the time. The shuttle was secured in our hangar, and that’s how it stayed until this morning, when someone, presumably this Pameron Doe, came through, sliced his way through the tethers securing the shuttle to the Port platform, and took off without settling his bill. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Was there anyone else with him?” asked Simeon.

“There were no direct eye witnesses, but security footage revealed a single individual. A tall man with dark hair.”

“Daddy…” muttered Ren. The clerk glanced at him. 

“Are you satisfied, gentlemen?” asked the clerk.

The men exchanged glances. “Yes, thank you,” said Simeon. “Have a good day.”

The clerk summarily glued his eyes back on his data screen as the six of them sauntered off, out of the Port of Theed. They kept their tone confidential as they left.

“So, Poe’s evil alter-ego ripped off the Port Authority and stole the U.R.M.’s shittiest shuttle on his way off planet…”

 _“My_ evil alter-ego?” said Poe. “Sounds to me like ‘Bolo Sen’ is going to find himself with a subscription to _‘Huttese Hotties’_ for his next birthday…”

“Is that actually a real thing?” asked Finn. “If it is, I’m embarrassed for you that you were even aware of its existence.”

“Hey… shut up,” said Poe, mounting his own best defense.

“Come now, gentlemen, let’s stay focused,” said Simeon. “I infer from this that Lord Solo has likely left the planet, or at least the city of Theed, and that Temiri remains here.”

“Do you think they’re okay?” asked Malfi, worried.

Simeon glanced at Ren before answering. “Unlikely. But I’m not without hope.”

“Where should we go from here?” asked Finnie.

“The transponders in their comlinks stopped transmitting late last night, shortly after we last spoke with… Lord Solo. We should trace that signal back to that location, and see from there.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” said Finn. He looked at each of the kids’ faces. “How are you guys doing?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” said Finnie. “Right guys?”

Ren and Malfi looked up at her. “Right, fine,” said Malfi. Ren nodded pointedly.

After this modest mental health evaluation of the children in their midst, Simeon wasted no time resuming his investigation. He knew exactly where he was going, taking an even more direct route to get there than Ben and Temiri had taken when they first arrived. On their way there, they passed yet another display of vandalism, marking the presence of the Black Dragons.

“Naboo too, huh?” remarked Poe, as they passed.

Simeon whipped his head toward Poe, utterly intrigued by what the pilot had just alluded to. “‘Naboo _too’_ , you say? Please elaborate, Captain.”

“Huh? Oh, I’ve just been seeing that symbol scattered around the galaxy for a few months now, at least. I’m not actually sure how far back it goes, because I only really started paying any attention to it when I saw it in Cloud City, about… seven or eight months ago, I guess it was.”

“Seven or eight _months_ ago?” asked Simeon, surprised.

“Yeah. But I think I’d seen it on Tatooine even before then… I just didn’t pay it any mind because Mos Eisley is already kind of a shithole. A little vandalism in a place like that just blends right in, you know?”

“Bespin… Tatooine…” pondered Simeon. “Have you seen it anywhere else?”

“I don’t know… Yavin, maybe? Chandrila for sure.”

“Fascinating…” mused Simeon.

“What?” asked Finn. “I don’t get it…”

“These are all locations with relevance to the Skywalker bloodline,” explained Simeon. “Tatooine is Anakin’s birthplace and the planet where Luke was raised, Yavin and Bespin featured significantly in Princess Leia’s efforts during the Galactic Civil War, and Chandrila is Lord Solo’s birth planet. And Naboo, obviously, is his maternal grandmother’s home world.”

“Okay, but you can’t really throw a rock in this galaxy without hitting a planet that the Skywalkers took a piss on…” said Poe, eliciting a disapproving glance from Finn. “—Not to be disrespectful,” he continued, hands raised in defense of his point, “I just meant, the Skywalkers got around… But to your point, let’s say it’s not a coincidence—what’s it mean?”

Simeon shook his head. “I’m not sure.” He might have elaborated further, but they had reached their destination. “And this is where they’ve been staying for the past two days,” he said.

 _“This_ place??” said Poe, incredulous. “What a shithole!”

“You need to learn a new word for places you don’t like,” said Finn.

“Okay, how about _‘fucking_ shithole’?” he suggested.

“That’s not even a new word, you just put an adjective in front of it,” observed Finn.

“I must agree,” said Simeon. “Though I do hate to take sides.”

“Boys, boys…” said Finnie, in mock placation. “Let’s just check out what’s inside this shithole and see what we can learn,” she said, stepping presumptuously through the threshold ahead of them.

 _“Fucking_ shithole,” corrected Malfi, finger raised in a distinct matter-of-fact sort of gesture as she stepped in after her. Ren looked sheepishly up at the three men and followed his friends inside.

“You are _ruining_ these kids,” said Finn.

“Oh, give me a break,” replied Poe. “A little swearing never turned anyone to the Dark Side. Isn’t that right, Simeon?” he said, slapping him encouragingly on the back before entering the shithole himself.

Simeon grimaced, and exchanged an aggrieved look with Finn. Somewhat reluctantly, they too stepped through the entry and found Finnie already in conversation with the desk clerk.

“So we’re looking for some friends of ours. I think they would have checked out sometime this morning, or maybe late last night.” Finnie whipped out her holopad, and presented the clerk with Ben’s image. “This guy’s one of ‘em.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not in the habit of discussing guests. That is, if this person was even ever a guest in this establishment,” said the clerk evasively.

“We know that he was,” said Malfi.

“Well, I’m sorry little girl, but my guests like a little bit of discretion, so I’m not about to—”

 _“—Tell us what you know about him,”_ said Malfi, in what was obviously a Force suggestion. Everyone was impressed, including Simeon—he wasn’t aware she’d attained that level of skill.

“Forgive me, young lady, of course. That guest is Temiri Blagg. He and his young friend, whose name I didn’t get, checked in two days ago and paid using their government credit account on a day-by-day basis. They were relatively quiet guests, until last night, when a ruckus occurred, waking me from sleep. I heard a window break, so I got up to investigate. Looking for my coat, I encountered Mister Blagg here in the lobby, who informed me that he and his companion were checking out.”

“And then what?” asked Malfi.

“And then… I can’t remember,” he said. “I woke up this morning, and I’ve just been minding the desk ever since, I guess.”

“Was Mister Blagg alone when you saw him?” asked Simeon, following up on what Malfi had uncovered.

“Yes, he was.”

“And what about the broken window?” asked Finn.

The clerk cocked his head. “You know, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t know… I got up to investigate it, but I’m not sure I ever did. Isn’t that strange?”

“Not _that_ strange,” said Poe. He sighed deeply. “Mind if we check it out?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’ll join you. One moment, please.” The clerk flipped a switch under the counter that illuminated a small sign above the kiosk that read ‘ONE MOM NT PLEA’. 

As the clerk turned to head out the back door, holopad in hand, the others followed close behind. Making eye contact with Finn, Poe pointed up at the sign and mouthed the single word ‘shithole’. Then Finnie did the exact same thing, except her version included the adjective in front. Finn shook his head, and corralled the other kids to follow along with them.

From the door into the back alley, the group looked right, then left, scanning for glass debris. 

“There,” said Poe, pointing off to their left.

“Ah, yes,” said the clerk, who approached the mess, then stepped back and looked up from there. “That’s room 305,” he added, pointing to the blown out window. “That was one of the two rooms they had reserved.”

“We need to get in there,” said Poe.

The clerk looked a little perturbed. He had clearly already given them more information than he was ordinarily comfortable divulging to strangers, though he wasn’t sure why. “Well, I’m not—”

 _“—We need to get in there,”_ said Malfi.

“I think you need to get in there. Please follow me,” said the clerk, helpfully. Simeon shot Malfi a disapproving look, which she immediately shrugged off.

The group returned to the lobby and took the staircase to their right. 

“I see the turbolift is out,” observed Poe, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially at Finn. Finn looked at the kids, and all three of them, in unison, mouthed his favorite word. Finn pinched the bridge of his nose, and Ren giggled uncontrollably.

The stairs wound their way up three floors. Stepping into the hall, Room 305 was just to their left. 

“Here we are,” said the clerk, inserting his master key. Simeon positioned himself in front of the door next to the clerk so the children wouldn’t be able to see past him. As the door opened, they were pushed into the room by an upswell of hotel air desperate to exit out the empty windowframe. The bedsheets were thrown to the floor, but besides that, little evidence remained that anyone had occupied the room. Given all that they’d learned, Simeon had half-expected to find Temiri’s body and abandoned luggage in there. 

Ren stuck his head through the tangle of tall legs between him and the room. “What’s that?” he said, pointing at a bit of white plastoid under the desk. Scurrying forward for a closer look, he found more bits of plastoid and some silicate fragments. 

Poe pulled Ren back away from the debris, leading him to Malfi, who took his hand. Poe and Simeon stepped further into the room, looking closely. Tiny blood spatters were visible on the bed and floor, and more blood and bits of gray fabric were visible clinging to the jagged edges of the broken glass left behind at the base of the window.

“Show us the other room, please,” said Simeon.

The gaggle of onlookers backed steadily out of the room and into the hallway. The clerk walked ahead of them, and soon, they had reached Room 317. Inserting his keycard, the clerk let them into the room.

The bed wasn’t made, but that was normal enough for a recently vacated hotel room. There was nothing left behind, and nothing obviously out of place. 

“More plastoid,” observed Finnie, pointing at some more small fragments littering the ground. 

“What does that mean?” asked Malfi, perplexed. 

“Comlink,” whispered Finnie in subtle reply. 

“So both their comlinks were smashed? How did _that_ happen?” asked Malfi, clearly not understanding the implications of the discovery.

Abruptly, Simeon addressed the clerk, “Thank you sir, you’ve been very helpful,” he said, excusing himself from the room. “Everyone? Let’s go.”

The group once again scooted backward from the cramped confines of the modest room and into the dimly lit hallway. They bid the clerk farewell and followed Simeon to the end of the hall, down the stairs, and out into the street. After scanning the area to ensure a reasonable level of privacy, Simeon addressed them.

“Alright everyone,” he said. “Children? Are you all ready to hear what I think happened? Are you prepared to learn the truth, even if it’s very painful?”

Finnie believed she had already figured it out. She focused her attention on Ren and Malfi, unsure how ready they each were to hear it spelled out.

Then Ren surprised them all by being the first one to actually say it. “The thing that’s controlling daddy attacked Temiri and smashed their communicators so we wouldn’t be able to track them.”

Malfi gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. _“What??”_ she exclaimed.

Simeon nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid that’s how it appears. Most likely, as soon as we ended our communication with him last night, Lord Solo—or his ‘possessor’, let’s say—destroyed his comlink, then proceeded to attack Temiri, knocking him out the window and destroying _his_ comlink. I believe Temiri failed to answer our call because this possessor had already gotten to him."

Malfi went white as a sheet. “So Temiri is…?”

Finnie pulled her in close. “Calm down Malfi, we don’t know anything for sure yet, so don’t lose hope. Do you still _feel_ that Temiri is alive?”

Malfi squeezed her tearful eyes shut and reached out with her feelings. She then nodded her head, but with a grimace. “He’s alive, I think.”

“There you go, then. We just have to find him.”

“I agree,” said Simeon. “I believe I’d have felt it if Temiri had died.”

“So if he was attacked, where is he now?” asked Finn. “Why wouldn’t he have found some other way of contacting us?”

“Maybe he was taken prisoner?” suggested Finnie.

“But by _who_ though?”

“Perhaps this is the Black Dragon connection we’ve been looking for,” said Simeon.

All eyes turned to look at him. “Okay, what the hell are Black Dragons?” asked Poe.

“When Temiri and I were here before, we saw that same vandalism that you claim to have seen on multiple other worlds, all of which, perhaps not coincidentally, have a personal connection to the Skywalker family. Lord Solo heard the words ‘Follow your blood’ spoken by his grandfather in the dreams he was having before he left. Perhaps ‘Follow your blood’ was a tease to get him to investigate family-related planets where these Black Dragons had already carved a foothold.”

“That’s a weird coincidence, sure, but I still don’t know what Black Dragons are. Apart from tagging up the galaxy, what’s their story?” asked Poe.

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” said Simeon. “All I know is that they are a shadow army—acolytes of the Sith. They existed long ago, but had been—we thought—extinct for hundreds of years. Their reappearance was believed to be a relatively recent phenomenon. If they are operating on Naboo, and are at all connected to what has happened to Lord Solo, then they may well be responsible for what has happened to Temiri also.”

Malfi had been listening nervously as her companions talked. In a small voice replete with trepidation, she asked, “What _has_ happened to Temiri?”

**———**

“How did you know about my father? And about Malfi?”

“It is the Sith way to learn and to understand all that is knowable,” explained Lonâm as they walked the dark halls together, meandering the underground complex that wormed its way under Theed’s Hall of Records. “It is the great lie of the Jedi that they embrace knowledge—in fact, the Jedi cannot survive without ignorance.”

“But it states plainly in the Jedi Code that knowledge _triumphs_ over ignorance…”

“How does one go about selling a great lie? By hiding the lie amid a series of other facts… What _exactly_ does it say in the Jedi Code?”

Temiri recalled the words. As part of his blended education on Dendrokaan, he had learned both the Jedi and Sith codes.

 

_“There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force.”_

 

“So it is, my friend. And so it is that they have hidden their great lie among other truths. Indeed, how does an organization achieve peace, serenity, and harmony among its adherents? By _denying_ them knowledge, for it is only through ignorance that one could find any harmony in this world. Let us now contrast these teachings with the Sith Code. Do you know it?”

Dutifully, Temiri recited the words:

 

_“Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

_Through passion, I gain strength._

_Through strength, I gain power._

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Force shall free me.”_

 

“And there you have truth. Peace _is_ a lie; it is only _through_ lies that there can be peace. Your masters concealed the truth from you to keep you in line. Subservient. Docile. I offer you truth. I offer you passion. Though it pained me dearly to see my protégé cut down before my eyes, there was no denying the passion, the _strength_ in your actions. It is that strength that promises victory, and ultimately, promises you your freedom.”

Temiri could not deny the rightness of what he was hearing. There _was_ a ring of truth to it all. It was difficult, however, to cast aside the past that he had shared with his family on Dendrokaan. Ben had laid bare his disgust with Temiri, but Rey… Simeon… had they _also_ been lying to him these last six years?

“Let the past die, young one. Let its tethers not drag you astray. Your ‘mother’ shares a Force bond with your master, does she not? It is therefore impossible that she does not share your master’s cruel feelings towards you. She sent you here with him, alone and unprotected. She knew what he would do to you if you proved uncontrollable—or what _she_ would have done to _you_ if you’d let him die. She only cared for you as one cares for any tool that they can use—a carpenter may have a favorite hammer, but he does not look on the hammer as a partner. Your other master is equally guilty of this, having already revealed himself as a double agent of the Republic, tasked with undermining the righteous truth of the Sith.”

Temiri cast his eyes to the floor, the pain of Lonâm’s words tying his insides in a knot. _Was_ it merely transactional? He _wanted_ to trust that the relationships he’d formed on Dendrokaan were sincere and based on compassion. Not simply a case of him earning his keep by solving the galaxy’s problems as their dutiful servant.

“Forgive me for causing you pain,” said Lonâm, in an almost hypnotic tone. “The past is a difficult burden to confront—cast it aside. I offer you truth. I offer you your _future,_ and your own self-determination. Your strength will bring you victory. The Force will free you. I have foreseen it…”

Temiri lifted his eyes from the floor and looked steadfastly ahead of him, a new, furious resolve twisting his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. Something inside him was changing; feelings he had long been unable to reconcile, that he had steadfastly ignored rather than confront. As he stood there, considering, his feelings were coming into focus and making themselves understood. At last, he thought he was beginning to know what he was. What he’d been born to be, what he was _meant_ to be. He was special, and he was _powerful._

 “What do I need to do?” he asked.


	18. Looking Within

**———Chapter 18: Looking Within———**

The rescuers stood solemnly outside the hotel. Having already established what had likely transpired since yesterday, they debated their next move.

“I think we should split up,” said Simeon.

“What? Why?” asked Finn, skeptically.

“Because we have no idea yet where Temiri could be, and this city is vast. Realistically, we are more likely to find him if we can cover a wider area.”

“Okay, but how would we even go about doing that? We’re not talking about sending the kids off by themselves, I assume?” asked Poe, clearly not seriously.

“No. Really, when I said ‘split up’, I meant I should go off on my own for a bit. You and the commander should stay with the children.”

“Maybe we could do three groups?” suggested Finnie. “Simeon on his own, then the rest of us split up so there’s at least one good fighter and one Force-sensitive person per group?”

“Who are our best fighters?” asked Finn, cocking an eyebrow uncertainly. 

“Well,” began Finnie, not wanting to insult anyone’s abilities, but she didn’t think Poe would be in the top two, “I think you should take either Malfi or Ren, and the rest of us go in the third group.”

“I wanna go with Finnie and Uncle Poe!” shouted Ren. Everyone looked at him curiously, but shrugged it off, just as happy to have had the decision made quickly.

“Okay, how does that sound to everyone?” asked Finn, looking expectantly at Simeon and Poe.

Simeon nodded affirmatively. “If you’re comfortable dividing up, then I think that will prove more efficient. Captain?” he asked, turning to Poe.

“Uh, sure, sounds fine,” said Poe. “Fan out from here?” 

“Good,” replied Simeon with a nod. To Malfi and Ren, he said, “Leave your feelings open as you walk. Like dropping seeds, let the wind carry them, and follow their lead.” Turning back to the group as a whole, he pointed eastward. “The city center is that way,” he said. “I think one group should head in that direction. I will head to the Royal Pavilion, which is that way,” he said, pointing again. “The last group could check out the areas toward the factory district, that way.” The groups then split themselves up, doublechecked their comlinks, and headed out in the general directions Simeon had indicated, radiating away from the hotel as they went their separate ways. The sun was high in the sky as they began their search.

**———**

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

 

The words ran on a loop inside Temiri’s head. They had lied to him. The Republic had murdered Malfi’s family, and the other students’ families as well, most likely, in order to keep them in line. The Republic wanted power, and that’s what he represented.

He _was_ powerful.

 

_Through passion, I gain strength._

 

He let his anger and bitterness flow freely through his veins, and with that energy, he felt his nerves electrify. Guarding his emotions had gotten him nowhere—it was time to embrace all the feelings that he’d been burying, that had brought him shame.

 

_Through strength, I gain power._

 

He’d been ashamed of his desire to display his strength. Ben had told him to hide his lightsaber, to keep his abilities from the public. He hadn’t wanted the world to know how powerful Temiri was—if they knew, they would reflect it back to him, and Temiri would’ve sooner recognized his own worth.

 

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Force shall free me._

 

Had Temiri not been so focused on earning the praise of his masters… had he been able to see his own worth… He would have known he didn’t need them. They were an anchor, holding him back.

But now he was free. For Malfi, for the others, for all the oppressed people in the galaxy scraping and scratching just to live, he would command the Force to do his bidding. With the Force as his ally and his servant, he could eliminate the humiliation. The pain… 

“Well, my young friend?” said Lonâm expectantly. “Have you thoroughly reflected on your relationship to the Force? On why it chose you as its conduit?” 

Temiri opened his eyes onto a world he understood. At last, he felt the agency he had always craved. This was his purpose—he could feel it. “I have,” he said to Lonâm. “I know what the Force expects of me, and I am eager to engage in this fight with the Force as my ally.”

“I am gratified to hear you say that, my son. If you are committed to this truth, to meeting your destiny head on, then I would prefer not to have to call you by your slave name. Do I have your commitment that this is indeed the path you choose to follow?”

Temiri breathed deeply, calmly, as he pondered what Lonâm was offering. “I do,” he proclaimed resolutely.

“Then the slave, Temiri Blagg, is no more. Like your difficult past, he is dead. In his place there is only Whuhai, Acolyte of the Sith. You are no longer at the mercy of any master. Let your strength be your guide… Let it bring you victory, and with victory, freedom… 

“Rejoice, Whuhai, for you are reborn.”

**———**

“So, Mister Finn, are you still annoyed at us for tagging along?” asked Malfi, as the two wandered through the alleys of Theed. Having apparently drawn the short straw, they had no specific destination in mind as they meandered through the factory district.

Finn gave a relenting sigh. “No, I’m not annoyed. I mean, I _am_ annoyed, sort of, but not really. I understand why you decided to tag along.”

“Really, you only have yourself to blame,” she said, punching Finn playfully in the arm.

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“You raised her to fight for the ones she loves, obviously.”

Finn smiled. “Well, I don’t get to take all the credit for that. She had a mom once, and she was pretty dedicated to that sort of thing too.”

Malfi gave a crooked smile. “Finnie told me. I don’t really remember Rose all that well—I think I only met her a couple of times—but Finnie gives her a lot of credit for teaching her how to be a good person.”

Finn nodded wistfully. “Rose was a wonderful role model for that.”

“So I hear.”

The two didn’t say much for a minute or so. They walked steadily through the streets and alleys of Theed, keeping their eyes open for any signs of conflict, of the Black Dragons, or anything even remotely related to the Skywalker bloodline, but there wasn’t much out of the ordinary for them to focus in on. Finn wondered what he could be missing.

“So, uh, can you… _detect_ anything? With your Force powers?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, skeptically, “I’m not exactly the strongest with the Force. I think I’m actually kind of a slow learner when it comes to all of that. I can do Force suggestions, and move objects around and stuff, but I’m not much of a fighter, and I can’t do much of the really hard stuff yet.”

“You’re learning. Give yourself permission to learn at a pace that’s comfortable for you,” said Finn.

“I know, I am. I just don’t think I’m ever going to be all that strong. But that’s okay. I don’t need to be. I just want to be able to help my family,” she said, smiling.

Finn looked at her with a gleam in his eye. “I think the galaxy could use more of that.”

“Oh!” she cried.

Finn was instantly on high alert. “What? Do you sense something?”

“No, just look!” she said, pointing to a hole-in-the-wall diner off in the distance. On display, right outside the order window, was a picture of Temiri. Malfi ran up to the business, Finn following up behind her.

“Excuse me,” she said, talking to the host behind the kiosk. “Why do you have his picture out front?” She pointed to the security camera image of Temiri they had pasted to the wall.

“Can’t you read, little girl?” he said, pointing at the words under the picture. They were written in Naboo, not in Basic, so no, she actually _couldn’t_ read them. “That guy ripped me off. It’s a warning to others not to do business with him—very shady character.”

Malfi was apoplectic. “What?? What are you talking about? That’s crazy!”

“Crazy is right! Fella played mind games on me… first he threatened me with his Jedi sword, then he tricked me into giving him his food without paying, apparently. Owes me a hundred and fifty credits!” he said, exaggerating.

“What do you mean, he tricked you, ‘apparently’?” asked Finn.

“I don’t remember… I brought out his food, but at the end of the day, we were short the same amount of money he owed us. We checked the camera footage, and he says ‘I don’t need to pay you for this,’ and then he just wanders off, like a total sleemo. No way would I have let him do that if he wasn’t messing with my mind. I thought Jedi were good guys? What’s the idea, stealing from a poor small businessman?”

Malfi frowned, disappointed by this turn of events. She thanked the restaurateur and stepped away from the window.

“You know him better than I do,” said Finn. “Does that story hold water?”

Malfi shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s not the Temiri I thought I knew. Could he be getting mind controlled too?”

“I don’t know, kid. I guess we’ll figure that out when we find him.”

**———**

Poe, Finnie and Ren had taken their own route through Theed, keeping their eyes open for any sign that Temiri might be nearby. They were headed into the city center, hoping to find anything that looked like something Skywalker-family-related that Temiri and Ben might have been investigating before the shit hit the fan. So far, nothing stood out.

“You look nice, all clean-shaven,” said Finnie to Poe, making conversation as they wandered. Sometime between their middle-of-the-night crisis and her emergence from the smuggling compartments, Poe had found the time to shave.

Poe shrugged, “Thanks. I figured I’d neglected myself long enough.”

“Well, it’s nice,” she said. “How you look is a window into how you feel, so I’m happy for you.”

Poe snorted. “Damn, Finn was right about you,” he said.

“What?” she asked, curious. “What did he say about me?”

“Just that you’re way too wise for your years. The things you say don’t seem like they should be coming out of the mouth of someone who’s only been alive for, what? Six years?”

“Something like that,” she said, pondering what he’d said. Ren looked back and forth between the two of them, listening politely as he watched the two of them talk. “I guess that’s something about her I decided to keep,” she said.

“Huh? Who are you talking about?” Poe asked.

“Phasma,” she said. Poe perked up at the mention of that name. “Phasma was kind of a terrible person,” said Finnie, stating something she assumed was common knowledge, “but she was celebrated for her ability to read a situation and understand all the complicated dynamics that lay just under the surface, influencing the outcomes. Understanding people’s motivations, what they’re thinking and feeling—even when it runs totally contrary to what they’re trying to project—is a useful skill. Phasma used it to get one over on her enemies and push and shove her way to the top. If this is a natural talent I have thanks to her, terrific, but I’m going to put it to better use than she did,” she said evenly.

Poe chuckled appreciatively at Finnie, impressed by her steady confidence. “You have an amazing life,” he said. “You have an insight into your own existence that virtually no one else has—you existed once before and that existence is chronicled in excruciating detail—but you seem unbound by it. Like you can just pick and choose the bits of that fate that appeal to you, and be utterly unaffected by the rest. I admire that.”

“I’m not unaffected,” she said. “Phasma’s legacy hangs over me constantly. If I didn’t know what a horrible person she was, I might not be trying so hard to prove that I’m different. In a way, it’s _nice_ that she was horrible—people’s expectations of me are stunningly low. I just have to be better than a megalomaniac and people will chalk it up as a win…” she said, only half-jokingly.

“You sound like Ben right now,” observed Poe.

“People’s expectations are stupid,” said Ren, glad to be able to contribute something to this very adult-sounding conversation. Finnie and Poe smiled warmly at him.

“Anyway, imagine if Phasma had been a saint. Then that’s what people would’ve expected from me, and every day of my life I would feel pressure to live up to that. In a very real way, other people’s expectations are a more difficult cross to bear than the genetic destiny that supposedly governs my future. I don’t know why, but I feel a lot less bound by that—like _that_ is a thing I can control.”

“I think I understand,” said Poe. “It’s hard to feel like you’re letting people down.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, nodding. “I’ve never let anyone down, because no one ever expected anything from me other than to be a piece of shit. I have the luxury of being able to choose what I want for myself, and no matter what I choose to become, it’s better than what people expected. It’s kind of liberating.”

“And this is why I find you amazing,” said Poe. “I think another person would’ve just tossed in their chips and said, ‘Well, I guess I’m a piece of shit then—I suppose I can’t really be blamed if I ruin things for everyone else, can I?’”

“‘I’m a monster, just acting according to my nature,’” said Ren. Once more, Finnie and Poe stopped to look at him, but this time, they were struck. 

“Huh?” said Poe, taken aback.

“What do you mean, Ren?” asked Finnie, perturbed. Not realizing he was actually quoting another person, they had become concerned.

“That’s what daddy used to say,” he said. “He said the Dark Side is what happens to you when you don’t think you’re worth loving. That you’re just a bad person, and there’s nothing you can do about it, so you may as well give up and just be bad. Like it’s not really a choice you have.”

Her stunned silence only lasted a moment before she found the words to contradict this desolate thinking. “But there’s _always_ a choice,” she said.

“He knows that now,” said Ren, sanguinely. “But that’s what you think when you don’t have hope. And how do you get hope back once you’ve lost it?” he asked, looking from Finnie to Poe. “Uncle Poe, how do you get hope back?”

Poe could hardly believe this was real life. These were kids, yet they left him feeling completely exposed.

“You…” he stammered, clearing his throat, “You… remember that there’s love out there. Even if it’s not for you right now, it’s there for others. And that’s worth saving.”

Ren took Poe’s hand. “And it can be yours again too. Sometimes, you have to fight for _that.”_

Finnie set her jaw, contemplating. Her decision made, she dove right in. “My dad loves you, you know.”

Poe’s eyes popped open, and his heart stopped in his chest. He felt naked. He didn’t know how to respond.

“You’re both so fucking _careful,_ it’s driving me crazy. I think he’s finally starting to get it, and maybe you are too, but there’s this _fear_ you both seem to have about calling it out. Is it because of mom? Or because you’re both guys? Whatever it is, it’s not important. You’re both obviously so much happier when you’re together, I wish you would just get over it…”

There was a silence that hung in the air as the three stood on the streets of Theed. Diverse citizenry passed them by, oblivious to the complex transformations that were taking place in plain view.

“Sorry,” said Finnie. “It’s just something I’ve been grappling with lately. It’s about choice, so… for the love of god, just choose to be _happy.”_

“But…” Poe started, “but what if I…?”

“What? Are you afraid you’re going to be a disappointment to him?” Finnie snorted a laugh. “You think he thinks you’re perfect or something? Poe, _please…_ he knows what a basket case you are, and he loves you anyway. He’s not looking for a perfect person—he wants a _partner.”_

“Now let’s keep moving,” said Ren. “I’m trying to help my parents, and Temiri—I’m _fighting_. We have a lot of work to do.” Ren walked resolutely ahead, leaving Finnie and Poe in his wake.

“I might be six, but he’s _five._ Like, legitimately, developmentally, _five._ That you’re getting your life lessons from the two of us speaks volumes about how completely fucked up this all is. Not fucked up _bad_ , mind you. Just fucked up. This shit isn’t normal. But doesn’t it make you glad not to be caught up in whatever ‘normal’ is? ‘Normal’ is defined by people’s expectations, and what have we been saying about people’s expectations?” she asked.

“…To hell with them,” he said.

“That’s right. Now let’s move.”

**———**

The Royal Pavilion of Theed was a logical place to look. 

It was logical, but beyond that, it _called_ to him. In his heart, or his soul, or from somewhere else entirely, Simeon knew that somewhere nearby he would find what he was looking for.

Temiri was here. And he needed help.

Simeon’s eyes took in the fine details of the gardens sprawling throughout the pavilion. On the surface, this was a place of beauty. Of peace. Of culture and civility. But Simeon felt something else, too. Underneath it all, a sinister presence, completely discordant with what lay above. He knew if he looked closer, under the veneer, he would uncover its secrets.

Simeon reached out with his feelings, and the Force answered his call. Across the way, in what would otherwise have been a relatively nondescript building, his eyes found what his soul was seeking. It wasn’t even that well hidden.

Off in the distance, stood a plain, box-shaped building, unadorned except by a handful of functional glass domes to illuminate the contents within. Out front, a couple of modestly dressed government employees were clearing off some vandalism that only someone familiar with its trademark would still be able to identify as that of the Black Dragons. 

His destination chosen, he needed only to infiltrate covertly. If Temiri was inside, his captors would sense Simeon’s presence immediately. He needed a disguise.

Long ago, during his studies into the dark arts, Simeon had learned of a useful Sith skill that allowed the practitioner to mask his Force sensitivity. Historically, this skill had only ever been used to hide one’s Dark allegiance from Jedi masters, but someone with Simeon’s resumé could easily co-opt the skill to hide from the Sith as well. It required unwavering concentration, but Simeon was steady, and masterful in his execution. After a few moments, his artifice was cast.

He felt around his waist to ensure that his lightsaber was adequately concealed under his gray cloak, and moved steadfastly in the direction of the nondescript building. As he approached, he did what he assumed any normal person would do: he made conversation with those doing the work.

“Good day, gentlemen. What happened here?”

The men turned from what they were doing and looked Simeon up and down before answering. “Oh, just some local hoodlums vandalized the place. We’re cleaning it up, that’s all.”

“Vandalism, here in Theed?” said Simeon, doing his utmost to fake genuine surprise. “Who would do such a thing in this lovely place?”

“Who knows,” answered the man. “No matter, we have everything under control,” he said, smiling broadly.

“I’m sure you do,” said Simeon, nodding affirmatively. “Is this building open to the public?” he asked, looking it over with appreciation.

The man’s smile faltered almost imperceptibly. “Yes, it is, but I’m not sure you really want to enter. This is the Hall of Records. It’s a very stuffy building filled with relatively boring material. You’ll find much more of interest to you if you head that way, toward the palace. There are many more different museums and recreational activities to enjoy in that part of the Pavilion. There are some lovely cafes as well, if you’re looking for a nice lunch with a pleasant view.”

“Perhaps in a little while, but as it happens, this is the exact place I want to be. I actually enjoy stuffy buildings with things most people would find boring, so if it’s all the same, I think I’ll peek inside. Thanks for your time,” Simeon said, with a polite nod and parting wave of his hand.

The men watched him retreat inside the building, and Simeon could feel their eyes on him. That was about _all_ he could feel from them. Those men were practiced concealers of their essence, but even so, their efforts were clumsy—in trying to hide what they didn’t want seen, they had succeeded in muting their entire signature. By emitting nothing, they only stood out more to anyone who was paying attention.

 _Clearing away their own vandalism… what could that mean?_ he thought to himself. They had spent months selectively broadcasting their existence across the galaxy—why stop now? Simeon pondered this… most likely, he inferred, their advertising had fulfilled its purpose, and they could now go back to operating in the shadows.

Inside, Simeon found that the Hall of Records presented itself as an ordinary government building whose purpose was primarily bureaucratic in nature. That there was anything about this place that was remotely touristy probably had more to do with its proximity to the whole of the Royal Pavilion, and the royals’ commitment to transparency since the end of the Galactic Civil War, than anything else. The Empire had left an ugly mark on the galaxy in general, and that guilt was felt most strongly here, on the home planet of Emperor Palpatine himself. Where the Empire had cloaked its work in secrecy, the democratically elected Naboo royals would operate out in the open. Hence, every government building would, to one degree or another, encourage the exploration of it by its denizens. How the Black Dragons had eked out a foothold here, under such open air, was an interesting question indeed.

Despite its open doors, the management of this facility had done a very effective job of discouraging people from actually coming inside. The foyer carried a distinctly bureaucratic vibe—few individuals would want to venture further than this first room.

Trusting his intuition, however, Simeon saw this ruse for what it was. Stepping into the abandoned hallways, he felt for opportunities to see beyond what was presented. Harsh lighting emphasized sterile hallways and office doors, locked tight against entry. Delving further inside, the areas that had long existed as quasi-museum chambers sat under a layer of dust that further muted the already modest lighting provided by the glass-domed ceilings and subtle backlighting. Most people not turned away by the antiseptic quality of the entrance would be put to sleep by the presentation of the artifacts in these rooms. But Simeon waded deeper.

Several rooms in, Simeon could see why his lord would have been interested in this place. The history on display included mention of his grandmother, Queen Padmé Amidala. Also recounted here was the life of Sheev Palpatine, emperor and shameful son of Naboo itself. However, Simeon noted that the emperor’s history, originally written and displayed here by those loyal to the Republic, had since been curated by the new management to include only a redacted version of the life and times of Sheev Palpatine. Everything outlining his strength, potential, and rise to power had been left untouched, but the spin and editorializing that cast a negative light on where he went from there had been obscured, albeit unsuccessfully. The Black Dragons’ influence over this building was incomplete, but they must be gaining prominence if they could _quite literally_ paint over the history on display here to try to eclipse facts that disagreed with their narrative of choice.

Simeon laid his hands on the display and closed his eyes. _Where? Where are you, Temiri?_ He pushed out with his senses and searched for his lost student.

In his mind’s eye, Simeon saw his lord and his apprentice. They were here, in this very room, set upon by several acolytes masking their true identities under the costumes of democratic government. This was… a day ago? They were coming out of this door… through the door beyond that, a nondescript office… and in that office, a fake wall.

Simeon opened his eyes, looked around surreptitiously, and, seeing no one, ventured further inside.

**———**

Lonâm raised the chalice above his new protégé’s head and took a breath, readying himself to recite the words that would complete Temiri’s transformation into the acolyte Whuhai. Before the words could pass his lips, however, he paused. “He’s come for you, Whuhai. Your old master…”

The bitter young man who now called himself Whuhai looked up from where his head had been bowed and narrowed his eyes apprehensively. “Ben Solo has come here?” he asked. His voice, Whuhai’s voice, presented a convincing display of ancient menace, but there were cracks—a hint of something more adolescent lying just beneath the surface.

“No, not Solo. The other. He tries to mask his presence, but we have eyes everywhere. He was seen penetrating our perimeter.”

“Can you see his intentions?”

“Yes,” said Lonâm, an intrigued lilt to his voice. “He comes to finish what your other master started. They will not abide a loose end.”

Whuhai’s brow knit tightly together. “He comes, but he will fail. I will show him what his attempts to rule my fate have earned him. If only I still had my sword arm…”

Lonâm shook his head dismissively. “Swords are the playthings of lesser men. You no longer require such props. You are an acolyte of the Sith, Whuhai. Do you not feel the power you possess? Your very form can barely contain it.”

Whuhai stood from his kneeling position and met the eyes of his new teacher. “Yes,” he said, in a gravelly voice. “I feel it.” And it was true—Temiri, or rather, Whuhai, was alive with power desperate to unleash itself.

Whuhai raised his left arm and turned his palm upwards. He felt the burning within—the anger, the vengeance, and his desire to show his former master his Dark potential fulfilled. As he concentrated on his hatred, he watched the sparks crackle from his fingers.

“If he fears he won’t be able to defeat you—which he should—he will try to manipulate you into self-doubt,” cautioned Lonâm.

Whuhai breathed deeply, savoring the power as it lit up the nerves in his forearm. His eyes were calm as they reflected the lightning dancing between his fingers. “He would fail,” he said evenly.

Lonâm nodded appreciatively. “I have confidence in your victory. Come, Whuhai. Let us break your chains at last.”

**———**

Simeon held his breath as he crept through the dark halls. The tunnels themselves appeared older than the Hall of Records itself, which had to have stood for hundreds of years already, remodeling notwithstanding. It was clear that rumors of the Black Dragons’ extinction were exaggerated. Simeon worked diligently to ensure stealth as he searched for Temiri.

Temiri… _Where is he?_ Thought Simeon timorously. He was here, Simeon was sure… but something felt off. The radiant Force signature Simeon had come to recognize was but a distant flicker. He feared for his student.

Simeon stepped from the hallway into a wide opening illuminated conservatively by sconces on each wall. In spite of the added space, Simeon sustained an uncharacteristic bout of claustrophobia—the ceilings here were still uncomfortably close.

“Tell me why you’ve come,” said a voice from the shadows, familiar but distant.

Simeon let the voice replay inside his head, searching it for meaning, context, information. The more he considered it, the more confused he felt. “Temiri? What’s going on? I can’t see you… Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to care about me. And I don’t answer to ‘Temiri’ anymore. His life was one disappointment after another.” Whuhai took a long, steady breath—he was calm, controlled. He felt a strange peace he’d never known before. Freedom. “Temiri is dead,” he said with finality.

Simeon closed his eyes and attempted to see into the heart of the changed man in front of him, but he couldn’t penetrate the armor. That such a shield could have been constructed in so short a time spoke volumes of the trauma the young man before him must have endured since yesterday—and to past traumas Simeon had thought were overcome. “Temiri,” he said. “This is not who you are.”

“Don’t speak,” uttered Whuhai. He took a step out from the shadows, but only enough for Simeon to make out his cloaked form. “And don’t try to rape my mind for information either. I am done with submitting to the likes of you. You, all of you, have been lying to me. Using me. Using us all. Trying to control us. To get us to yield. Now that I can see it, I finally feel in control of my own destiny.”

“But Temiri, _this_ is the illusion. Dark forces are attempting to manipulate you. Don’t you see—”

“—This darkness suits me,” interrupted Whuhai. “And _you’re_ the one trying to manipulate me. I finally feel at home within my own skin. Temiri was weak and unsure. Overly trusting. Naïve. Whuhai feels no pain. Whuhai solves his own problems.”

Simeon had always struggled with emotion, and he knew it. Though he understood academically that attachments knitted the universe together, that they made you stronger, he had never learned how to form them for himself. He’d convinced himself he didn’t need to; his role was to guide and encourage the attachments of others.

Or so he’d told himself. Here and now, he stood face to face with the results of his emotional abdication. He’d been negligent, and found himself at the mercy of the consequences of that failure.

“Temiri,” pleaded Simeon, “Please stop this. We’ve come to take you home. We need your help. Lord Solo and the Lady Rey, they’re in danger. So are y—”

Whuhai held out his arm and squeezed the air with his twisted fingers. As he did, the words caught in Simeon’s throat, and he clawed at his neck. For several seconds, the pressure increased, and Simeon could not break free of it. His every effort to reclaim control of this situation only tightened the literal stranglehold that Temiri—Whuhai—had over him. Simeon fell to his knees, and stared at the veiled presence as it crept closer, further into the meager light of this ancient and foreboding place.

Whuhai towered over his prey as it sank further and further into the stone floor. Simeon fell onto his back and stared up at his student, the boy he’d help raise, educate, and train for the last six years. He sought out Temiri’s face, his heart, his soul. He couldn’t find them. At last, he caught a glint from under Temiri’s hood, and as the darkness crept into his field of vision, he pushed back against it to look into the eyes of Temiri. 

But all he found were the amber eyes of Whuhai. As those corrupted eyes peered into his own, Simeon heard the words pierce the inside of his skull, bypassing his own ears and tearing a hole into his brain. 

 _‘Lord Solo and the Lady Rey’ can go fuck themselves,_ it said.

And with a last, final demonstration of power, the dim hall was alive with rogue electrons, angry bolts arcing through the air, the stone, and the souls of those within. The small room was autoclaved, and by the end, all that remained was a charred gray cloak, a seldom-used lightsaber, and the sickening odor of carbonized flesh and ozone.


	19. A Walk in the Dark

**———Chapter 19: A Walk in the Dark———**

He walked.

He’d been walking for what felt like days. He didn’t actually know how much time had elapsed, as the sky of Malachor was always the same color. Light from the star didn’t penetrate the cloud cover, but was evenly refracted and reflected through it, punctuated by frequent lightning strikes. There was no discerning north from south, east from west, or day from night.

He didn’t even know if time really passed at all in this dream version of Malachor he’d been trapped in since—well, since whenever. His only saving grace was that his “body” felt no fatigue as it marched through the barren landscape on its way to the kyber he knew must exist here somewhere. Though this was not the real Malachor, Ben was convinced that the kyber crystal of legend, in the heart of Malachor, was _findable_ , and that finding it might offer some hope of escape from this hell.

So he walked.

As he walked, he eventually did feel something. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t pain… but he found himself feeling almost… _light-headed_ … and had to steady himself on a spire of rock. The sensation did not immediately subside, and he had to sit down. Breathing heavily, he tried to interpret the significance of what he was feeling.

 _Is this… the Force?_  

Ben was simultaneously glad and apprehensive over the possibility that the Force was with him here in this nightmare. He’d been exiled into his own subconscious by a malevolent interloper, and since then, he’d _felt_ very little. Yet now, the Force’s reach had extended to him—most likely, not for good reason. Something was happening in the real world that would pain him to wake up to.

With a stab to his heart, his mind jumped to Rey. He was trapped in his own mind, but where was she? It disturbed him that he hadn’t made contact with her since his exile—if anyone could’ve gotten to him in this place, it should have been her. Her absence, coupled with the disturbance in the Force he’d just felt, triggered a knot in the pit of his stomach that took every ounce of his determination to keep from becoming a full on panic attack.

After another several moments of intense meditative concentration, he’d caught his breath, so to speak. Ben pulled his body up from the ground and stared ahead into the distance. Putting one metaphysical foot in front of the other, he continued his march forward. He had to hold on. To his future, to his family… 

To hope.

**———**

Poe stared up at the great, hulking monument that stood in the city’s central plaza, threatening to block out his view of the sky. He could make out the shapes of three N-1 starfighters at its base, and what looked like a big, jagged storm cloud above. He crinkled his brows irreverently.

“What’s that?” asked Ren, peering upwards.

“Ugly, is what it is,” remarked Poe facetiously.

“You think so?” said Ren. “I think it’s kind of neat…”

Poe shrugged, “It’s fine… As monuments go, it’s a nice one. I’m just not big into monuments in general,” he said. “I prefer to see the sky,” he added.

“Ugly or not,” said Finnie, trying not to let her own personal disdain for this particular specimen of public art preclude her from learning more about it, “we should probably go in for a closer look. It could be a historical monument of some kind.”

“Something Skywalker-related?” ventured Poe.

“Maybe,” Finnie shrugged. 

“Let’s see if there’s a marker or something,” suggested Ren, and the three crossed the open promenade in order to get closer to this monstrosity of marble, metal and stained glass. As they approached the structure, Finnie and Poe craned their necks up at it, discovering a kind of vertigo they didn’t know existed. Ren walked around the base of it until he found what they were looking for. He tried to read the inscription.

“‘In Commem… Commemor…’” 

“—‘In Commemoration of the Rebuilding of the Galactic Senate, 4 ABY,’” read Finnie, walking up behind him. “‘Bravery, Perseverance, Strength, and Honor. In this, We stand United.’”

“So _that’s_ what this is about… these are the pilots who destroyed the Empire’s climate disruption array,” said Poe, looking it over appreciatively. “Okay, I like this eyesore a little better now. These guys were heroes.”

“You know some history, Poe?” asked Finnie, her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

Poe nodded affirmatively. “Every flier knows about the pilots who saved the Senate. Three starfighters against an empire… It’s what really nailed the lid on their coffin.”

“But you don’t know who the pilots were?” asked Finnie.

Poe thought for a second, then shrugged his shoulders. “No, I guess I don’t. I’ve known the story for so long, longer than I can remember, but I never asked who they were. Didn’t really matter to me, I guess. What was inspiring to me was that simple starfighters, skillfully piloted and carefully organized, could take down a dictatorship. I imagined _myself_ in the pilot’s seat,” he said. “Every pilot does.”

“Well, I know some history too,” she said, “and I know who those pilots were.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Frankly, I’m a little shocked that you _don’t…”_

Poe knit his brows together. “How come?”

“Well,” she began, “first of all, those pilots were all _women,_ not ‘guys’, as you said,” —Poe shrank a little under the embarrassment of his own assumptions— “but more importantly, at least two of those pilots were women you even _knew…”_

Poe’s jaw dropped slightly, and Ren sat up with attention at where the story was going. Finnie continued, “One of those pilots was the queen of Naboo at the time—whose name I honestly can’t recall—but another was Leia Organa—”

 _“_ — _What??”_ blurted Poe, utterly dumbfounded. _“Leia_ was piloting one of those??” He turned and pointed lamely up at the statue, transfixed. _“Leia??_ But… I didn’t even think she could fly…”

“Grandpa probably taught her,” said Ren. “He was the best pilot in the galaxy!” he added, beaming.

Poe could still hardly believe his ears. “She… she never _told_ me…”

“Well, I didn’t know her,” said Finnie, “but history doesn’t paint her as someone who tooted her own horn very often. Besides, she might have assumed you already knew. After all, the _third_ pilot…” she started, watching the mesmerized captain carefully to gauge his reaction, “…was Shara Bey.”

Poe whipped his head toward Finnie, eyes wide with quiet astonishment. She met his eyes confidently, amazed that this scrappy pilot could be so oblivious to his own origins. She had spent so much of her own existence gathering up every shred of information as to her own progenitor that she was astounded he could have taken things so much for granted.

“Shara Bey was your mother, wasn’t she?” asked Finnie.

The spell lingered for a moment longer, but then Poe finally nodded. “She was. She died when I was eight. She never talked about her own adventures in the war… she always said her own actions weren’t important… that what was important was… answering the call. Fighting to free the galaxy…”

“Just like what you’ve been doing!” chirped Ren.

Poe shrugged. “Well, the galaxy’s free now, so…”

“So what? No point in living anymore?” prodded Finnie.

“No, I didn’t say that,” said Poe, raising a hand in his defense. “I just have to… adjust.”

“Besides, I’m sure your mom was fighting for… fighting…” Finnie stammered, and stumbled over to one of the benches that dotted the perimeter of the grand monument, sitting herself down with a thump.

Concerned, Poe knelt down in front of her. “Finnie? What’s the matter with you?”

Finnie shook her head, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know… I just… feel… _wrong.”_

She slumped like she’d been hit by heat stroke or a sudden fever, and Poe set his hand to her forehead, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. Theed’s central plaza was warmer than they were used to back on Dendrokaan, but not by that much. He could conjure no plausible explanation for her sudden condition. Wondering if perhaps Ren would be able to detect anything using his Force sensitivity, he turned from Finnie to look for him. But Ren too, was on the ground, having simply sat down where he’d been standing, a blank expression on his face.

“Oh, shit!” exclaimed Poe with concern. “Ren! What’s wrong with _you_ now??”

Ren stared back, a silent tear streaming down his soft cheek. A look of profound sadness crossed his face, and his jaw quivered as he readied himself to speak. “Mister Simeon is dead.”

Poe was apoplectic. Desperate to get to the bottom of what was happening, he moved Ren to sit with Finnie and left the two of them there to recover their wits while he fished his comlink out of his pocket, anxious to make contact with his other companions. He moved himself to the other side of the monument, just outside their peripheral vision, and lifted his comlink to his face. Nervously, he tried Simeon’s comm code. After a few interminable seconds of waiting, he gave up and tried again. Still nothing. Shaking his communicator in frustration, he entered a different code.

“Poe? Is that you?” asked Finn, from the other end of the communicator.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. Listen, have you heard from Simeon?”

“No, but I’ve been trying to contact _you_ for the last minute or so…” Malfi doesn’t feel well, and I don’t know what’s up with her. Who have you been clogging up your line talking to?”

“No one. I was _trying_ to contact Simeon, but I can’t get through,” said Poe, running his hand through his hair and holding it at the back of his neck. Lowering his voice, he added, “Ren said… he says Simeon is _dead.”_

 _“Dead??”_ replied Finn, entirely too loudly. On Finn’s end, Poe could hear Malfi screaming.

**———**

Finn marched solemnly through side streets and back alleys on his way to where Poe had said they were. Malfi had been crying ever since Finn ended his communication with Poe, and he carried her trembling body with him as he walked. Things had gone sideways so suddenly that Finn’s head was spinning.

Turning a corner, he saw the monument Poe had described. Being as careful as he could to not jostle Malfi too much, he quickly crossed the street to meet them in the shadow of the enormous structure.

“Glad you found us,” greeted Poe. The kids looked up to acknowledge their arrival, but had no words with which to welcome them.

“How’s everyone here doing?” he said, still supporting the stunned Malfi in his arms.

“We’re holding up,” said Finnie, rising from the bench she’d been resting on since she’d learned of Simeon’s fate. She walked over to where her father had stopped, and gently pulled Malfi from his arms, setting her on her feet. “Right, Malfi?”

Malfi, still red-cheeked and dour, nodded solemnly, wiping her face of the last vestiges of tears. 

“Where’s the Royal Pavilion?” Finnie asked. “That’s where he said he was going, wasn’t it?”

“Uh—huh,” replied Malfi, fighting against sobs. Though she had managed to stifle her tears and most of her whimpering, her diaphragm was still twitching with heartache.

The Royal Pavilion was such a tourist draw that the group didn’t have to ask for directions. Everywhere they looked, signs pointed out locations of government buildings, royal facilities, and historical monuments. Poe pointed at one such sign not far from where they were standing. 

“It’s that way,” he said softly, trying to be conscientious of the kids’ emotions. He didn’t want to push them too quickly to get up and start moving. Despite his lack of urging, however, Ren was on his feet in an instant. Finnie and Malfi were likewise fortified by having, if not a plan, at least a direction to set themselves towards, and the children quickly set off. Poe and Finn exchanged glances and fell in line behind the kids.

They didn’t speak as they marched, and once they reached the pavilion itself, the five comrades stopped only momentarily to get their bearings as they decided which part of the grand pavilion they should investigate. Simeon hadn’t said what he was coming here to do.

“That way,” said Malfi, pointing straight ahead of her. She’d regained her composure, but her cheeks still bore the mottled red patches betraying her grief.

The group looked to where she pointed. “That boxy looking building off in the distance?” asked Finn. “What makes you so sure that’s where he went?”

“I can feel it,” said Malfi, taking a step in that direction. No one argued, they just dropped in wordlessly behind her.

Malfi took as direct a route to the building as was possible given the frequent obstacles. Gardens, statues, fountains, park benches, and throngs of tourist groups all made for a very circuitous route to their destination. When they finally reached the building Malfi had indicated, however, there were no other tourists around for them to compete with.

“The Hall of Records?” said Poe, skeptically. “Ugh, don’t tell me this is where he went…”

Malfi nodded. “It is. And Temiri is in there.”

Ren cocked his head and closed his eyes in tight concentration. “I can’t feel… _anything_ in there. Are you sure, Malfi?”

“I think she’s right, Ren,” asserted Finnie. “I don’t know why, but something tells me this is it.”

“It looks open,” said Finn. “Shall we?”

Poe shook his head disdainfully, but didn’t argue. “May as well be a fucking library,” he mumbled under his breath. Hand moving reflexively to the blaster on his thigh, he took a step toward the entrance. “Keep your eyes open,” he said as he stepped ahead through the group in order to take the lead.

There was no one outside the building, and the foyer was abandoned—the lights were on, but no one appeared to be home. Scanning the entryway, Poe tried to assess which way they should go from there. He observed sterile hallways off to his left, and a larger chamber off to his right.

“Right,” said Malfi, starting to take a step ahead of Poe before he extended a hand to keep her behind him.

“Right it is,” he said, moving cautiously in that direction. Malfi tracked close behind him, followed by Finnie and Ren, with Finn bringing up the rear, blaster in hand.

They moved smoothly through a series of large chambers, scanning the artifacts on display here. Poe’s eyes were scrutinizing the walls and floors, searching for anything that might hint at their friends’ fate, hidden in plain sight—the displays themselves held no interest for him.

After passing through a couple of the large chambers, Finn was getting edgy. “Do you feel anything else, Malfi? Are we getting closer?”

“Closer,” she confirmed. “I’m sure now. I can hear it—I can hear Temiri’s kyber crystal. It’s in here, calling to me.”

“Calling to you?” said Poe, uncomprehending.

“Just keep going,” she said, urging him forward. 

They had reached the last public chamber in this series of rooms. The only remaining door was a plain thing marked ‘Employees Only’. The group watched as the small girl pushed the door open, unconcerned by the trespass she was committing. Their adrenaline rising, they almost couldn’t hear her over the thrumming of their own pulse in their ears, but she said two words that cut through.

_Hidden door._

**———**

With the flick of a switch, the incinerator sprang to life. Inside, the remains of his former master’s cloak vaporized into microsolids so fine it was practically atomized. On the table to his left, the disused lightsaber. Whuhai scowled.

What had become of Temiri’s own lightsaber, Whuhai did not know. It had been in his hotel room along with all his other possessions when Ben Solo had attacked him. No one had been back to collect his things, assuming there was even anything left to collect—Solo could’ve ransacked his valuables after casting him out the window. But for all Whuhai knew, his lightsaber was still there, in his pack on the desk across from his bed.

But he no longer required such playthings, for his body was all the weaponry he would ever need.

Whuhai plucked the saber from the table and was about to toss it, too, into the incinerator, but his arm halted mid-swing. Whuhai gave the weapon closer consideration. Against his better judgement, he ignited the blade.

The striking yellow beam cast its glow across the incinerator’s metal surface. The brilliance of it contrasted sharply with the darkness of the rest of the laboratory, and everything more than a few feet away became invisible to his eyes, too dark, too far removed for those details to outshine the luminance of the weapon. There was just Whuhai, the saber, and the promise of the incinerator.

And the steady, even hum of the blade as it vibrated in his hand. 

Whuhai studied the weapon. He could not tear his eyes away. The sound of its hum grew louder, rising to a fever pitch, and a haunting sensation began to creep upon him. A sensation not unlike drowning. 

Struggling to quash his rising panic, he abruptly extinguished the saber and let it clatter to the floor. Breathing heavily, he gazed down upon the weapon as his ears registered the now deafening silence that hung in the air in the absence of the hum, and his eyes readjusted to the dim light reflecting off the edges of the cavernous laboratory. Once more, he went to collect the weapon, bending down to seize it from up off the floor. 

And once more, his body betrayed him, unable to cast the lightsaber into the incinerator. Whuhai cursed, but quickly reset his steady veneer. After a long breath and a moment’s meditation, he stuffed the lightsaber into the folds of his cloak, securing it under the belt at his waist.

 _It will be_ _a_ _trophy. A reminder of the day I broke my chains._

With a huff, Whuhai stuck his chin imperiously forward and strode out of the lab.

**———**

As though he were a ghost, Mudâr stepped soundlessly through the tunnels under the Hall. He was an intermediary—that was his function. A go-between for information, he knew everything that the network knew, and he controlled the spigot that let that information flow from one ear to the next. The network was watching, and his services were needed.

He approached the ancient door, raising one hand to knock the announcement of his arrival. “Master, I bring news,” he said.

“Enter.”

The door swung frictionlessly inward, and Mudâr stepped inside. “We are being infiltrated,” he said. “Those who were seen with the Jedi Master—”

“—He was no Jedi, Mudâr. He was a traitor of the Sith; a practitioner of both the Light and Dark arts, but he was part of no Order. He had no allegiance—he was merely a tourist and a thief.”

“Forgive me, my lord. The Sith traitor, as you call him—his party has arrived. Shall we dispatch them?”

Lonâm narrowed his yellow eyes, a devious smile stretching across the sallow skin of his cheeks. “No, let them come. Fetch the boy. I will speak to him, and we will let him mete out a proper punishment.”

**———**

The staircase descending into the bowels of the Hall of Records was long, narrow, and cold, with stagnant, subterranean air. As they contemplated their descent, there was some arguing about who should go down, and in what order. Maximizing defense was everyone’s main priority, but it was almost immediately apparent that there was no good way to descend that wouldn’t leave someone in their group unreasonably vulnerable to sudden attack—but leaving anyone behind was out of the question. With an adult at each end, they lined up and prepared for their slow march into the catacombs.

Poe insisted that he go in front, so it was he who had to squint down the dimly lit passageway as he struggled not to slip on the unevenly spaced stone steps. He let his blaster lead the way.

At the bottom of the long stairway was a tight intersection. Hugging one wall, Poe cautiously approached the corner and shot his head out and back through the lines of sight. Not seeing anything obviously threatening with these cursory glances, he stepped out and hazarded a more thorough examination of their options.

“Ahead just keeps going—forever, apparently,” he whispered to the group behind him. “Left and right paths both curve off in that general direction,” he said, waving a hand forward, “so I can’t tell how far back they go. I saw a few doorways down each of those halls, but no idea what prospects they have.”

“Seems a little like we’re setting ourselves up to be surrounded if we go straight,” theorized Finn.

“Conversely, we could find ourselves cornered if we take one of these offshoots,” said Poe, playing devil’s advocate. He shook his head, “All shitty options…”

“Malfi, can you still hear the crystal?” whispered Ren from the middle of the crowd.

“Yeah, but… it’s not really a _direction_. It’s just… _ahead,”_ she shrugged.

Poe sighed. “Well, that’s better than a coin flip, I suppose. Ahead it is,” he said, stepping forward. “Stay close,” he added, cautiously crossing the opening to the other side. The kids followed, and Finn did his best to hurry them across so they didn’t spend more time in the intersection itself than was strictly necessary.

The hallway was wider than the staircase had been, and they were no longer forced to walk single file. Poe remained in front, but Finnie and Malfi could follow on either side of him so they had a relatively decent view of the path ahead. Ren’s view remained obscured, but Finn could at least see over Malfi’s head.

The lighting was still shit, though. “I hate this place,” said Poe “I feel like I’m leading us into a trap. The blind leading the blind…”

They crept silently through the dim hallway for what felt like a long time—long enough that the intersection they’d left behind was no longer visible to them, glancing back. There was, however, something new beginning to become visible up ahead, breaking the monotony of the stone walls and their evenly placed sconces.

“I think it’s opening up,” said Finnie. “Up ahead, do you see? I think there’s a big room.”

As they got closer, they confirmed it was true: the hallway opened up into an enormous chamber, the exact size of which was difficult to determine. There were numerous stone columns scattered throughout the cavity, each about two feet in diameter, supporting the low ceiling. The columns made it impossible to gauge the distance to the walls on either side, as their overlapping pattern obscured the view. The group slowed down as they approached the entrance to this new area. As they crossed the threshold, Poe took a few tentative steps forward, and Finn pushed his way past the kids to get out in front of the pack.

 _“Stop!!”_ urged Ren, as quietly as he could manage without losing the desperation he wanted to convey. “There’s something in there! Something bad!” He clutched at Finnie’s leg and shirttails, trying to stop her following the men any further forward.

Ren had drawn Finnie’s attention down and away from the chamber ahead of her, and in so doing, she missed entirely whatever it was that triggered the ensuing chaos. All she remembered was Malfi yelling in apparent joy, Poe and her father crying out in alarm, desperately trying to shove her back, and the way her nerves felt as her body lit up with electrons that seemed to enter her body from everywhere all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's 12/20/2019, and I was just updating some edits to an earlier chapter, and altering some of the tags to this story. Why change the tags? Well, I saw The Rise of Skywalker last night. I have... opinions. Needless to say, that was never going to be a movie that was possibly going to please everyone--but good, sweet lord, did it try. If you haven't seen it yet, I won't spoil any of the plot points for you, but I thought I would say a couple things about my feelings about it, and how it relates to *this* story.
> 
> I was an *enormous* fan of The Last Jedi. I've always loved Star Wars, but it was TLJ that made me an obsessive nerd. I'd never written fanfiction, or in fact, *any* fiction, prior to watching that movie, but it got inside my head in a way that I hadn't expected a movie about space wizards fighting space Nazis could. I saw TLJ as the perfect movie for this country, in a moment when we really needed art to act as a mirror for ourselves, so we could see who we are, and what we need to become. How can two warring factions find a middle ground (i.e. balancing the Force)? How can those who have done wrong ever atone for it (Kylo Ren redemption)? Is it worth it to try, or are some acts really "irredeemable"? Do "heroes" have to be perfect (Luke and Rey)? Is power and importance something that is only available to certain people, or can anyone rise up to do great things (Rey Nobody, broom boy)? How can love act as the vehicle to see those questions answered in a satisfying way? The Last Jedi gave me such a burning need to see those questions answered that I couldn't wait for Episode IX--I had to start writing. So I wrote The Resolve Into Gray, which I'm guessing, you've read (thank you). In it, I tried to capture what I thought was culturally relevant and important about what TLJ had set up. In my opinion, The Rise of Skywalker completely walked away from everything about The Last Jedi that made it interesting, relevant, and a great film that actually made the sequel trilogy *important* for us in this moment. (And it was so rushed in its execution that even the plot points it tried to explore, it didn't explore *well*, but I digress.)
> 
> I hope I don't sound like just another disillusioned fan, or like the folks who railed against TLJ after it came out--like the franchise *owed* me something and it's my right as a fan to tear it apart for not delivering on my expectations. Everyone is entitled to like what they like, and movies mean different things to different people. I just thought, if you're going to go along with me on this ride we're on, I should share what these movies meant to *me*, and why. I wanted *this* story, the one you're reading right now (and the one that came before it), to have some meaning. The extent to which I do or don't succeed in that is for you all to decide, but that's what I wanted, and I'm struggling now with how I should proceed. 
> 
> Thanks for listening. I appreciate that I have this community of folks, like-minded in their love of Star Wars, the sequel trilogy, Reylo, etc, that I can share this with. There aren’t many people in “real life” who seem to get it.
> 
> 1/20/20 A month later, I’m feeling a lot better. I still think TROS was a train wreck, but I’ve been immersing myself in the content of many other folks who felt similarly, and their words have inspired me to move on. In particular, Girls With Sabers, probably my favorite YouTube channel for their insight, knowledge, and positivity, had some words that resonated with me:
> 
> “Art is personal. Whatever drew you to the sequel trilogy in the first place, you guard it, for it brought hope, and hope too, is worth protecting. We wear the crown of roses. We win by saving what we love, so don’t let Lucasfilm steal this beautiful story from you, or the richly complex story of Kylo Ren.”
> 
> There was more, but that was the gist of what they said that helped me get over my depressed hump and back to engaging with this story. I'd been afraid that I wouldn't be able to enjoy the sequel trilogy anymore because it wasn't the story I'd thought it was, but they reminded me to "save what I love". Of course. 
> 
> I’ve spent the last few weeks rereading this (as well as Resolve Into Gray) in order to immerse myself back into my own head canon. I can once again see where I wanted these characters and this story to go, so it won’t be long now before I have new chapters ready to post. I had some fixes to make, and outlines to flesh out, but I'm almost all fixed in the head now, so it won’t be long. Thank you so much for reading this far and for sticking this out with me. This stuff matters! :)


	20. In Bondage

**———Chapter 20: In Bondage———**

It had taken a solid day of travel.

Arguably, one of the worst trips of his entire existence. Even as a young boy, Sheev Palpatine had enjoyed the luxuries provided by his influential family. Now that he’d assumed occupancy of the Skywalker heir, he had to suffer the beggarly accommodations cultivated by that lifestyle. That the heir to the Skywalker legacy should be gallivanting around the galaxy in such mediocre shuttles was an abomination—a consequence of poor decision-making on the part of his host. 

But those days would soon be at an end. If the young Skywalker hadn’t been relegated to occupying such a small part of his own subconscious, the Dark Lord might have demanded thanks from him. Soon he would be liberated from his poverty, and would occupy a position of tremendous wealth and influence.

At last, Darth Sidious would be able to put this tedious, shabby experience behind him. Malachor was calling.

The enormous kyber thrust out from the planet’s frozen carbonite plains, and the Emperor piloted the shoddy Republic vessel towards it, setting down just a klick or so from the great spire. Rising from the pilot’s seat, the Emperor was all too happy to stretch his host’s legs— _his_ legs.

He craned his neck a bit to loosen up the muscles that had grown stiff from sitting and staring at the console. He had spent so long in ethereal form that having a body again was an almost foreign sensation. It had been ages since he’d experienced sore muscles or any other sort of fatigue. 

His previous corporeal form had been haggard. However, the Dark Side of the Force had so thoroughly penetrated that vessel that the normal rules of physical maintenance and bodily discomfort didn’t really apply. In his previous body, his essence was in control of his flesh, not the other way around. Once this new body was _truly_ his, he could mold it into something more—something that was unbound by the inconvenient trappings of the mortal coil. He could once again experience the freedom that a complete integration with the Dark Side of the Force would allow.

With a grinding of gears, the door to the shuttle slid upwards and the cold air of Malachor poured in. Darth Sidious stood in the doorway and felt the air rush across his new skin. With it, tendrils of Dark energy caressed his very soul.

Stepping confidently down to the surface, Sidious bid good riddance to the ramshackle vessel that had brought him here. Taking a moment to immerse himself fully in the aura of the planet, he looked ahead to where the ground sloped gently enough down into the chasm, to where he could access the subterranean caverns of Malachor. At the bottom of the crevasse, waiting to greet him, was the Great Sith Temple of Malachor, and the heart of the planet’s massive kyber crystal. The purest, most concentrated font of Dark energy in the galaxy, and the catalyst that would make permanent his occupancy of this powerful host body.

**———**

“Malfi. Malfi, wake up.”

The voice landed like a ribbon floating to the ground from a tall building on a breezy day. She thought at first she might have dreamt it. It sounded in Malfi’s head like an echo of past thoughts. Ideas that had never been given utterance. Feelings left unconveyed. She shook her head to clear them out.

“Malfi, are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Groaning, Malfi lifted her head from whatever this hard surface was that had carved its imprint into the left side of her face. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt glued shut. Pressing the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, she tried to make her lids obey. With a last burst of effort, she was able to pry them loose, and sought out the source of the voice.

It was too dark, and what light there was, emanated from behind him. All she could see of the person in front of her was a shadow. A figure hooded and cloaked, as though shielding itself from the meager light that threatened to cast its glow upon his face, allowing her to really see who it was that knelt in front of her.

“Te—Temiri?” she uttered tremulously. Could this really be him?

“As you say,” he replied.

“Temiri, what’s going on? I feel like I’ve been hit by lightning.”

“I apologize. In my fervor, I lost some… control. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“Temiri, where is everyone?”

“Please,” he said, holding up a hand, “please… don’t call me that. Just… don’t.”

“Huh?” she replied, totally confused. “I don’t understand…”

“The others are in separate cells,” he said, answering the question she’d asked a moment ago. “They’re not your friends. The Republic… they lied to us.”

“What?? What are you talking about? Temiri—”

“Silence!” he shouted, but immediately regretted his tone. “Please, don’t call me that. I’ll make you understand, just give it some time. I know you’re confused, but don’t worry. It will be alright.” He laid his hand briefly to her shoulder, then stood up all the way, leaving her where she lay on the cold stone floor.

“Te—” she started to say his name, but caught herself. “Are they okay?” she asked.

He hesitated, but eventually answered. “Yes.” Without elaborating, he turned from her and headed for the cell door, a lattice of durasteel bars criss-crossing the wide opening in the stone wall. After opening the door, he turned his head slightly to look back at her. From his silhouette, and what new light reflected off of him from the hall, she could recognize the familiar shape of his face. “I will be back. Please… stay calm until I return.”

Malfi’s heart was in her throat, and tears burned her eyes. Blinking them away, she focused on the feeling of her legs folded up underneath her. Shifting her weight, her fingers and eyes explored the subtle details of her cell. The cold of the stone. The small cracks in the mortar. The echo of the footfalls as the one making them became more and more distant.

**———**

“It is foolish to wait, Lonâm. We should just kill them now.”

Lonâm sat at his desk, his back turned from the acolyte who dared to offer his opinion. Lonâm smiled, tracing the runes carved along the blade’s edge with the index finger on his one hand. The very blade he’d used to stab the Skywalker. The deed had cost him his arm and his protégé, but it was all in service to his lord. In spite of what it had cost him, he was proud of how things had turned out.

“No,” he replied. “The boy must do it. He has already killed his master. The transformation is nearly complete.”

“You run a terrible risk, Lonâm. What if he fails?”

“Then he fails, and we kill him, along with the others. But every deed he commits against them brings him more into our flock.”

“He’s a fool, Lonâm.”

“In that, you are certainly correct. I hardly had to lie to him at all. The truth alone, presented in the right way, was nearly all it took to persuade him—he _chose_ this,” said Lonâm, chuckling deeply. “Worry not, Mudâr. Our fool is a _useful_ fool. It has already gone too far for them to recover—whatever happens now, they are finished.”

Lonâm remained facing away, so he could not see the skeptical grimace Mudâr wore. Mudâr did not understand the reason for his master’s insistence on stringing along the fallen Jedi—it was a needless risk. However, not since Zrirus’s death had Lonâm been acting rationally. Regardless, there would be no persuading his master. Having voiced his objections, Mudâr could only bow his head and take his leave. “Yes, my lord.”

**———**

Ren awoke in the darkness, cold and frightened. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he could make out a door of thick metal bars, but little else. There was nothing else to see—his cell was utterly bare.

He crawled to the door and peeked out as far as he could. His head was small enough that he could fit it between the bars in the door, but only barely—his ears pressed painfully into the metal as he pushed through. Looking left, then right, he could see that his cell was one of several lining this hallway. The sconces on the hallway walls flickered, giving the illusion of movement throughout the narrow hallway—but illusion it was. In truth, everything was still.

He dared a whisper into the unknown reaches beyond. “Is anyone there?”

Immediately following his question was a scurrying sound from nearby. He saw a man’s hands grip the bars of the cell door on his left, and a nose poke out. “Ren, is that you?” It was Poe.

“Uncle Poe!” Ren exclaimed, relieved to hear the familiar voice. “Yes, it’s me! What happened?”

“I’m not sure, kiddo. I think we found Temiri, but… well… I hope we didn’t.”

“Where are the others?” Ren asked.

“I’m here,” called a voice to his right. It was Finnie’s. “Malfi’s cell is next to mine. Where’s dad?”

Everyone got quiet, waiting for Finn to answer. When he didn’t, Poe followed up, “Finn? Buddy? You there?”

To Poe’s left, there was a groaning noise.

“Finn!?” shouted Poe. “That you??”

There was more groaning. “…Yeah… ‘m here…”

“You okay pal?” asked Poe.

“Mmm… I think I hit my head. It’s pounding…”

“Just hold tight, buddy, we’ll take care of it. Just gotta get out of here first. Does anyone know how we might get these doors open?”

“They’re durasteel,” said Finnie. “They don’t appear to be locked electronically, but I don’t see a mechanical lock either.”

“It’s the Force,” said Malfi. “There are physical bars holding the door shut, but they’re held there by the Force. Something powerful is holding them in place—I can’t release it.”

“Dammit,” cursed Poe. “Why the hell are we even in here? Why did Temiri attack us?”

“Temiri attacked us??” asked Ren, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“That was him, wasn’t it?” asked Poe. I thought we saw him in that big room, before we got zapped and ended up in here…”

“No way,” said Ren, utterly disbelieving. “There must be a mistake…”

The prisoners thought hard about their circumstances, trying to make sense of the facts. As Poe tried to wrap his head around what he thought had happened, he heard crying.

Finnie must have heard it too. “Malfi? Are you okay?”

At Finnie’s question, Malfi quit trying to keep her agony hidden from her friends. She cried openly as she revealed what she knew. “There’s something wrong with him… He _did_ attack us… He _did_ throw us in here. He says the Republic lied to us. He won’t let me call him… his _name…”_ she sobbed, dropping her head into her hands. “I don’t understand.”

Though he and Malfi were two rooms apart, Ren laid his hand on the stone barrier on his right and tried to imagine he was comforting his dear friend. His own eyes were wet with silent tears, but he knew his fear and his pain were nothing compared to what he could feel coming off of Malfi.

**———**

Lonâm felt the approach of his fledgling acolyte, and opened his study door in anticipation of his arrival. He turned in his seat so that Whuhai would see him, fully aware of him and awaiting his information as soon as he looked through the door.

The sound of footfalls slowed, and, as anticipated, Whuhai stood in the doorway, looking inward. He met his master’s eyes, but did not speak.

“Enter,” instructed Lonâm. As his apprentice stepped through the door, Lonâm pushed out with the Force to shut it behind him. He waited for Whuhai to speak. To his dismay, he felt hesitance from his charge. “Whuhai?” he prompted.

“The prisoners are secured,” he offered in reply.

There was another pause, and Lonâm sensed Whuhai’s reluctance. The corners of Lonâm’s mouth curled subtly downward. “And what are your plans for them?” he prodded.

“I would like to… keep the girl. To turn her. She was a friend…”

“Your attachments betray you. The girl was friend to the slave Temiri, not the proud Sith acolyte Whuhai.”

“I understand, my lord, but if she could be made to see…” he paused, considering how best to present his proposal. “She values freedom. She could be a strong advocate for our philosophy.”

“She is weak,” countered Lonâm. “Her signature in the Force is but a flicker. Good for little more than moving furniture…”

Whuhai’s expression faltered, and Lonâm could feel his conflict. Lonâm knew how persuasive attachments could be—they could make you act irrationally. He tread lightly…

“I would never force you to do anything you did not feel comfortable doing, my son,” said Lonâm, in a fatherly voice. “If this girl means so much to you, perhaps it is a sign. She may yet have more strength than it would first appear. Indeed, the Force can be coy. If she could turn, then perhaps… perhaps she could find a home here, with you. With _us._ If she would turn from the others…” Lonâm let these words dangle in the air for a bit. He watched Whuhai carefully to gauge his reaction.

“The others…?” said Whuhai.

“Yes, the others… If she could demonstrate her understanding… Show us she _knows_ the lie that the others have perpetrated upon her. If she could break her own chains…”

Whuhai’s face hardened, but he looked hopeful. All Lonâm had done was to tease the idea to his apprentice, and his apprentice understood what was required—he could see the path forward to what he wanted. 

Lonâm didn’t have to plant the Darkness, it was already there. All it needed was cultivation.

Now, Lonâm would see just how far his apprentice could be pushed. This was all turning out better than he had dreamed possible. In the end, Lonâm would either have _two_ new acolytes or one _very committed_ acolyte. Either way, he will have destroyed his enemies more deeply and permanently than he could ever have imagined.

**———**

It didn’t feel like Malfi would ever stop crying. Finnie had felt intense sadness before. A year ago, after the death of her mother, Finnie carried around a sadness that dragged on her like a lead weight. As bad as it had been, though, it had been worse for her father—his grief had nearly crippled him. However, with his naked despair on full display, caring for him had been a much needed distraction for Finnie. As long as he had needed her, and as long as she had been needed, then her own grief was more manageable. 

As she leaned against the bars of her cage, listening to Malfi’s sobs, her memories of that time returned. Closing her eyes, she visualized herself back in that role again. With a resolute intake of breath, she prepared a reprise.

“Tell me about the Force, Malfi,” she said.

For a moment, Finnie wasn’t sure Malfi had even heard her over her choked keening, but finally, Malfi responded. “The—Force?” she hiccuped. 

“Yeah. How do you make people… do what you tell them?” she asked.

“That’s a—Force suggestion…” she sputtered. “It’s when you—you… Finnie, do we have to talk about this—now?”

“Yes, please, I want to know,” said Finnie, calmly, encouragingly, leaning into the part she was playing. “I think it’s amazing, what you can do. Please, tell me.”

Malfi sighed, and tried to get a hold of her breath. Finnie could hear her straightening her legs as she sat up. “It’s hard to explain…” she began.

“Can you try?”

“You just… When you can feel the Force running through you… you can feel the way it connects you to other people,” she said, pausing to wipe her nose. “It’s like, you’re not really a different person from everyone else… You’re just… a part of the whole that happens to be kept inside your own body. Does that make any sense?”

It only sort of made sense to Finnie, but Malfi was thinking about something other than her own grief, and Finnie would say anything to keep that up. “Yes, it does, a little,” she said. “Keep going.”

“So, since you’re not really a different person, getting them to do what you want them to do is really only as hard as convincing yourself. You just sort of… put yourself in their head and say, ‘yeah, this is a good idea—I totally want to do this’.” Malfi sniffled a little more, but she’d gotten control of herself. “And then, just like that, they think it was their idea all along.”

“I think I get it,” said Finnie. “And how does the Force let you move things around?”

Malfi took a moment to consider. “Basically it’s the same idea, except… except you’re not in another person’s head. You sort of have to… focus on how the Force feels all around you. Kind of like it’s a blanket you wear… Well, I don’t know if that’s the right analogy. I’m not sure I can explain this,” she said, shaking her head.

“Don’t stop. Keep trying,” urged Finnie.

Malfi took a long breath. “So you feel the Force around you, and… you just sort of… _pull_ on it. Maybe like a thread? The Force connects you to _everything,_ in a way, so… Oh! It’s like a wave!” she cried, finally finding the metaphor that felt right. “You feel the Force flowing through you, like it’s a wave in the ocean you’re floating in, and you just sort of visualize the thing you want to move as being on that wave. Waves move toward you, and waves move away from you… As someone who interacts with the Force, you just get good at… well, at pushing it around, I guess. At making it flow in the direction you want it to.”

Finnie thought she could visualize what Malfi was talking about. She was staring at the back wall of her cell, shrouded in darkness. There was nothing on it to see, no details to cloud her vision. In their absence, she tried to imagine that she could see the Force moving in the empty space before her.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Hurriedly, she crawled forward, away from the bars, stood up and turned herself around. In spite of the impotence of her situation, she adopted a defensive posture, knees bent and arms raised.

But the footsteps didn’t reach her. They stopped in front of Malfi’s cell, and Finnie overheard the distinct scraping sound of metal on metal as the bars sealing Malfi’s cell slid open. Finnie rushed to the door and looked out to her right, but the visitor was already in Malfi’s cell.

“Who’s there?!” Finnie shouted into hall.

“Please come with me,” she heard a voice say. “We need to talk.” It sounded like Temiri, but his affect was off. He sounded hollow.

“Te—” Malfi stuttered, “Where are we going?”

“To my room. Please don’t be afraid, Malfi. Come with me.”

The others had been listening in as well. “Temiri, is that you??” shouted Poe. “What the hell is going on, kid? Where are you taking her?” Ren listened frightfully from the far wall of his own cell.

Whuhai ignored the shouts of the other prisoners, and held his hand out to Malfi, shivering at the back of her jail cell.

She was glued to the wall, uncertain whether she could still trust the man before her. He was not himself. He was not… Temiri. “Are you going to hurt them?” she asked, in a tiny voice.

“Please come with me,” he repeated.

Malfi’s lower lip quivered, but she took his hand and followed him as he led her out of the cell. His hand was cold, but his touch was gentle. 

“This way,” he said, and the two departed, leaving barely an echo in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... Temiri is getting hard to write... But at least I'm writing again! Three cheers for perseverance!


	21. Arbitration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this ages ago, but TROS-related stages of grief and all... It's hard to shake what that movie did to me. I'm falling in and out of periods of heavy productivity on this story. I think I'm on an upswing. :)

**———Chapter 21: Arbitration———**

Malfi followed Temiri through the winding halls. She did her utmost to behave as much like a fly on the wall as she could—a difficult fantasy to conjure, tethered to her guide as she was. As they walked, she made it her goal not to bump into him, pull or push on his arm, or in any way interact with anything they passed. She wanted to pretend she wasn’t really where she was. She would be a ghost.

This was overly ambitious. The halls were narrow, the path labyrinthine, and most terrifyingly, they were not alone. Though very few individuals besides the two of them roamed these halls, they did pass the occasional acolyte—all of whom were terrifyingly _empty_. She would have to fall in behind Temiri to avoid bumping into the Sith, and in doing so had to maneuver herself awkwardly in order not to pull Temiri’s arm behind his back. She wondered why the Black Dragons were letting them, _her,_ pass. 

The first time it happened, she’d averted her eyes from the passing figure. The second time, she’d braved a glance up at him. Yellow eyes stared back, looking down at her as though he too wondered why she was being given safe passage. After that, she kept her head down.

Finally, mercifully, they arrived at their destination. The door opened at Temiri’s command, and the two entered. He released her hand and she proceeded ahead of him, putting a few feet between them. As she looked back at him, the door swung closed at his command.

For a tense moment, neither of them spoke. His cloaked head hung low, and his eyes were closed. Something about him, something _else,_ didn’t look right, but she couldn’t immediately put her finger on what it was. She stole a brief second to take in her surroundings.

“Malfi,” he said, and her head snapped back to him. “Malfi, I need you to listen.”

“Tell me what happened to you,” she begged. “How did you end up in… this _place?”_  

“The Republic,” he began, “our teachers… they all lied to us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They killed your parents,” he said flatly. She stood, transfixed, in response to this revelation from him.

“What are you _talking_ about?” she asked again, breathlessly.

“They killed your parents,” he repeated. “The Republic did. When they took you, _enslaved_ you, they killed your parents. They wanted us for our power.”

“That’s… That’s insane!” she shouted. “You can’t really _believe_ that, Temiri!”

 _“Don’t_ call me Temiri!” he barked back at her. He started pacing circles around the small space, and she retreated away from him, bumping into the table at her back. “Temiri was a _fool!”_ he shouted. “Temiri was taken advantage of! Temiri was abandoned by his father and left to the _wolves_ to take and mold as they saw fit, feeding him scraps of knowledge in exchange for his fealty!” He stopped pacing and looked at her. For the first time since they’d reunited, she saw his eyes, and she felt frozen. “Temiri was a _slave,”_ he declared with finality. 

“But… but Tem—” she stuttered, desperate to say his name, but terrified of the reaction he would have if she did. Those eyes… they belonged to someone else.

“I understand this is a difficult thing for you to hear,” he said, recovering his composure. “I didn’t believe it at first, either, but when you stop and think about it, it makes sense.”

 _“How_ does it possibly make sense?!” she shouted.

“Because,” he said, “we are powerful. The First Order had taken us to use, too, but when the Republic swooped in, it wasn’t to free us, it was to seize the spoils of war. Ben, Rey… and Simeon… just agents of the Republic’s war machine. Trying to control us so that we won’t rise up against them. They fear us for what we can do.”

“Then why would they have saved us in the first place?” she asked. “Why not just kill us at the start?”

“Because we’re too useful to them—at least we are as long as we are obedient.”

“But… they _love_ us!” she cried desperately, tears creeping back into her eyes.

 _“Ha!”_ he shouted, and he raised his fist toward the ceiling. Electricity shot from his hand into the stone above, leaving black marks behind. Malfi took another terrified step backward, bumping once again into the table. She edged herself into the corner, desperate to put more space between the two of them.

He looked at her and softened. “Forgive my outrage, Malfi, but no, they don’t. Would someone who loves me try to kill me?” he asked. “Would someone who loves me… mutilate me like this?” he asked.

At this, Malfi finally realized what it was about him that hadn’t looked right. The empty sleeve, trailing in the breeze as they’d walked. This lasting hurt was what had inspired his outrage against their teachers.

Malfi trembled. She knew Ben—or rather, the parasitic force controlling Ben—had attacked him, but it never occurred to her that Temiri would believe that Ben would do that in his right mind. Clearly, that was _exactly_ what Temiri believed. “Temiri, that wasn’t really Ben that attacked you.”

Temiri, Whuhai, dismissed her with a vehemently incredulous stare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there,” he said levelly.

“We went to the hotel,” she started explaining, but realized she needed to start further back. “Something bad had happened to Rey—we have her unconscious on the _Millennium Falcon_ right now—so we called Ben on his comlink. He didn’t sound right… Ren could tell, it clearly wasn’t him. Worried, we tried to call you too, but you didn’t answer, so we flew here as fast as we could and investigated. We saw the room where you stayed. I know you were attacked, but it wasn’t Ben that did it.”

“I’m supposed to believe something other than what I saw because you say Ben ‘didn’t sound right’?” he asked, unconvinced. “Look, I understand how hard it is for you to believe this, but they don’t really love us,” he insisted. “It’s all a ruse.”

Malfi shook her head. “Is it so hard for _you_ to believe that they _do_ love us? That the last five years haven’t been a great stupid conspiracy?”

Her old friend sighed, looking down at her. “My dear friend,” he said sincerely, “It was this hopeful naïvete, this very instinct to see the good in people in spite of all the bad they put on display that made the two of us such good friends. You inspired me to believe that maybe, just maybe, I had found a home grounded in genuine affection. You could see the good in me, so I tried hard to trust the good in them. My father violated that trust, but you had done so much to help me find hope that my new home was different. That it was real. Really Malfi, it was very difficult to throw that hope away—I didn’t do it lightly. Even after I found myself here, I tried to hold on to what you’d wanted me to believe—I wanted to believe it too. But I couldn’t deny the facts… Be honest, Malfi… it is simply more logical that I was being used, than that I was being cared for.” 

Malfi’s throat was tight, and she took a long, tortured moment to examine the face of her dearest friend. He truly believed what he was saying. The monster he believed he was… that anyone could love that person was too unbelievable for him to accept.

“Do you know what he said to me before he took my arm?” he pressed. “Before he bore down on me with a look of hatred in his eyes so deep it broke my heart? Before he kicked me to my death?”

Malfi stood there quietly, trembling, afraid to listen, but unable to shut him out.

“He said to me: ‘You don’t even deserve to be called a Jedi’. And then he cut me in two as I cowered before him, begging for my life.”

Malfi’s eyes erupted, the floodgates of her tears thrown wide. Her knees gave out underneath her, and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing. 

Whuhai looked down at her, sympathetic but satisfied. She was understanding. He was succeeding in convincing her that, yes, the last five years _had_ been a lie. She just needed a little more time to process that truth, and then they could discuss what they were going to do with the liars and betrayers in their midst. How Malfi could go about freeing herself from them… 

He got down on one knee and set his hand on Malfi’s shoulder. 

She looked up at him, an utterly devastated expression coloring her beautiful, innocent face. “Did… Did he really say that to you?” she asked through her tears.

“He did, yes. Every word.”

Malfi howled again, and laid her hand upon Temiri’s. “Oh, Temiri, you poor, poor fool,” she said.

Whuhai cast her a wounded look. He waited, confused.

She reached around his neck and hugged him close, soaking his neck with her tears. “You big, stupid dummy…” she continued, doubling down on her earlier insult. She felt his confusion, and pulled away to look him in his tortured yellow eyes. “Don’t you understand?” she asked.

He returned her gaze, but said nothing.

“Temiri,” she said, and she touched her forehead to his, “if it had been Ben, he’d have said ‘ _Ronin’.”_

**———**

Lonâm had been communicating with his lord and master for the better part of the last hour. Darth Sidious had arrived at Malachor, and soon, Lonâm would be called upon to assist in the rites that would make permanent his lord’s return to the physical plane. Now that his attention was back here in Theed, he found it very timely that his new acolyte should be approaching his study once again. 

He opened the door in welcome, and before him, stood Whuhai.

“Whuhai, I am pleased to see you. Though, the look on your face is not encouraging. What revelations do you bring?” he asked.

“My lord, I… I was unable to turn her,” said Whuhai, a look of profound sorrow on his face.

“That must be disappointing. I am sorry, my son. But better for you to have learned this now than to have trusted her and then been made a fool of. Attachments are fleeting, and often only exist to be exploited by others.”

Whuhai nodded his head, doing his best to hold back his grief from his master. But whatever pride it was that made him attempt to hide his feelings, it was for naught—the misery was palpable.

“You try so hard to conceal your pain from me, but your prideful efforts betray you… Do you intend to kill her then?”

Whuhai again nodded, clearing his throat. “Forgive me, my lord. I… had really hoped she would turn.”

“Mmm, yes, I know. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Again, apologies. I was hoping… That is, I planned to wait until overnight to take any further action. I thought if she… had some time to reconsider…”

“This is a great risk you are taking, Whuhai,” said Lonâm. “If she is this determined not to see the truth, she may instead use this time to work out how to manipulate you. It is a defense mechanism the weak employ when they find themselves out of options.”

“Worry not, my lord. I am committed to the path,” Whuhai’s voice cracked as he said this, and he struggled to make it obey. Swallowing hard, he continued, “She will join us, or die.”

“As you like it, my son,” said Lonâm. “Get some rest, then. Tomorrow holds great promise—best to meet it at full strength.”

“Yes, my lord.” And with that, Whuhai, acolyte of the Sith, took his leave.

**———**

“How long have we been in here?” asked Finnie.

“I dunno, kid, they took my chrono when they took my blaster, and my comlink, and all the rest,” said Poe. 

“How’s dad doing?”

Poe listened for the subtle snoring sound he’d come to recognize from the cell next door. “Still sleeping,” he said. “Just as well. Unless we can actually treat his head injury, he’s better off sleeping than he is thinking. Really, we should _all_ be sleeping. There’s not anything else more productive for us to do right now.”

“I have to pee,” whimpered Ren. 

“Kiddo, there’s a grate in the corner,” said Poe, as though it were obvious. “Just pee into that.”

“Hmph,” Ren grumbled, but crawled off to investigate the existence of the grate all the same.

“Malfi’s sleeping,” said Finnie.

“That’s good. Poor girl is exhausted. This whole day has been misery for her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s been a shit day for _everyone,_ but she lost her mentor and her best friend in pretty much one fell swoop.”

“Jury’s still out on him,” said Finnie.

“You’re right, you’re right,” said Poe, apologetically. “What do we… think he knows about Simeon?”

“I don’t know. I’m… giving him the benefit of the doubt,” she replied.

“When is he coming back, anyway?”

“I don’t know that either. This is why I asked you how long we’d been in here.”

“How long we’ve been in here is not the same question as how long before he comes back. The total amount of time we’ve been in here is a lot longer than just how long it’s been since he dropped Malfi back off with us.”

“Alright, whatever,” muttered Finnie, relenting. “Jeez, you’re technical,” she teased.

“When you’re leading whole squadrons of starfighters into battle, you learn to ask very precise questions and give very precise answers,” he retorted.

“Yes, well, I’m… sure you’re right about that,” she agreed awkwardly. 

There was an uncomfortable silence that hung in the air for a bit. Poe hadn’t meant to make it uncomfortable, but realized he had. She would be thinking about the fact that leading squadrons wasn’t really a thing Poe was permitted to do all that often anymore, and that made it weird—after all, his whole sob story about losing his command, _temporarily_ , even, was small potatoes compared to what was happening right here, right now. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up,” he said. “I _know_ it’s a small thing, really. It’s just that I… I was really good at that. At flying and… leading…”

“I know you were, Poe,” she said sympathetically. She’d been picking at a frayed edge on the cuff of her pants, pulling the strands apart and unbraiding them from the rest. In the dark, she flossed her fingernails with the loose fibers. “You still are,” she whispered, but too quietly for him to hear.

“Will you teach me how to fly, Uncle Poe?”

The question came from out of nowhere, and the two of them almost jumped. “Huh?” asked Poe. “Did you say you want me to teach you to fly?”

“Yeah, I did,” Ren said. “I want you to teach me to fly the _Falcon.”_

Poe chuckled. “The _Falcon,_ huh? You know, I think your Uncle Chewie is in charge of the _Falcon_ these days."

“He already said he’d let me have it if I promised to learn how to fly it,” answered Ren.

“He did? Well, okay, but why don’t you just have your mom or dad teach you?”

“I want to surprise them,” said Ren, proudly. “They don’t even know I want to learn.”

“Why haven’t you told them?” asked Finnie.

“Because. They just want me to enjoy being a kid, and they think that means just playing and stuff. I mean, they teach me basic things, like reading and numbers and stuff, but they’ve never trained me like they train the other kids.”

They were quiet for a minute. “I suspect they don’t want you to feel like they’re _pushing_ you into being something you might not want to be,” offered Poe.

“Maybe,” said Ren, shrugging.

“Ben does go on about how stupid it is to be hemmed in by people’s expectations,” said Finnie. 

“He does,” agreed Ren. “And mama always says stuff like, ‘I’ll always love you, no matter what you do’.”

Poe sighed. “God, your parents are fucking neurotic. They’re so desperate to avoid screwing you up that they’re blindly inventing brave new ways of succeeding at it.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what Poe was talking about. “Huh…” 

“It’s weird that people choose to be parents… Expect great things from your kids, set them up to feel like they disappointed you; expect nothing, make them _feel_ like nothing. Seems like kind of a no-win proposition,” said Finnie.

Poe creased his brow, considering her words in the context of their earlier conversation. “You say that now, but earlier you said you felt liberated by everyone’s low expectations of you,” he observed. “That they _expected_ you to be a piece of shit, and you considered it a victory just to be better than terrible.”

“I was sort of half-joking when I said that,” admitted Finnie, backpedaling a bit. “I suppose it’s more honest to say that really, those expectations push me to be something _contrary_ to what they expected. Because, well… _‘Fuck you for thinking I’m shit,’_ if you take my meaning.”

Poe chuckled. “I do,” he said. 

“So I suppose that means I’m every bit as affected by expectations as anyone else,” she sighed. “Just in a different way.”

Poe nodded to himself. “Your parents clearly didn’t expect you to be shit,” he said. “Does it shock you that Finn and Rose _chose_ to adopt you, in spite of… well, in spite of what you are?”

“Frankly, yes. And no,” she added, considering. “I’m a genetic copy of the worst person my dad ever knew. Though the galaxy at large may not have known her identity, they knew what she represented, and they feared it—they should fear _me_. That any sane person would _choose_ someone like me to bring into their lives is something that I marvel at every day of my life. However,” she paused, “knowing my parents, and what they believe, and who they _are_ —or _were_ —” she added, fighting back a sudden sting of tears to her eyes, “…knowing them, it doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

Poe quietly contemplated. His thoughts were on Finn, and on Rose, and on the girl in the cell next to his. A copy of a killer, or so some would say. What Finn and Rose had done, accomplished… here were the fruits of that effort. “What did Finn—what did your _parents_ —expect of you?” he asked.

Finnie took a quiet moment to remember her parents—the mother who every day modeled what a good person looked like, and the father whom Finnie idolized, from whom she took her own name. She smiled, tilting her head back against the hard stone wall as she reminisced. 

“Mom and dad just wanted me to be happy,” she said finally. “Dad says everything is about choice. We _choose_ who we want to be. We _choose_ to be happy, or we _choose_ to be miserable. We choose to be good, or we choose to be bad. He said to me once, ‘Nothing is thrust on you, Finnie, not even the stars in the sky’. Maybe we choose what expectations we want to succumb to, and which we want to push back on.”

“Do you _choose_ the Dark Side, then?” asked Poe, playing a bit of devil’s advocate. “Ren said, quoting Ben, that the Dark Side is what happens to you when you lose hope. When you just give in and admit that you’re a monster—that being a monster isn’t a choice, it’s just… who you _are.”_

“Giving in to being a monster is a choice, too,” she replied. “You just don’t realize what you’ve chosen—you don’t realize _that_ you’ve chosen—until it’s too late…”

“This is making my head hurt,” said Ren. “I would choose to get out of here. Can I make that just happen?”

Finnie smiled to herself as she sat in the dark, thinking over everything. Silence settled upon them, and they embraced it like a warm blanket. Eventually, they became aware that the only noise they could hear was the shallow breathing of the sleepers on either end of their chain of jail cells. Finnie was nearly hypnotized by the even rhythms of sound she was hearing, but was jarred to attention by the interruption of approaching footsteps.

She pressed her face as close to the bars as she could, trying to make out who it was who approached. Their visitor looked in on Malfi, still sleeping soundly in the cell next to hers, then continued slowly onward from cell to cell, assessing. He finally came to rest in front of Ren’s cell, glancing between the three prisoners who were actually awake, looking up at him cautiously, apprehensively.

“It’s time,” said Temiri.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued! If you like what I have so far, please leave a comment and/or some kudos, and/or subscribe for updates. :)
> 
> I would also love any constructive criticism you might have -- this has *not* been beta'd. If you read something that didn't seem right to you, I'd really appreciate the feedback. Thank you!


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